Called to Fight, 1st Edition
by M. Quilldragon
Summary: Galbatorix fell before Vrael. Bloodshed paved the way toward peace. The broken Broddring Kingdom dissolved before the fall of the last Forsworn. In this reshaped Alagaesia, the son of Joed Longshanks seeks to change the world. Peace is kept by the sword, but Lawrence seeks to follow a path of non-violence. He is called to fight, yet he doesn't know what it will truly cost.
1. Chapter 1: Tempting Fate

Others could be riders, but he would be a servant. Lawrence Longshanks ran down the cobblestone road, fleeing his pursuers. His long, brown hair was matted against his head. He sped around a corner. His brown slacks hugged his calves, drenched by a puddle he stepped in.

"Get back here, knave!" One of his pursuers shouted as he waved his fist. The street corners had afforded young Lawrence an edge as he made sharp turns. He'd gained this familiarity through his nigh constant presence in this questionable part of Tierm. This slum hugged the mountain Tierm sat nearest to. As the maritime hub expanded, this part fell into disrepute on mulitiple levels. The disreputable area provided migrants with cheap housing and shielded the crime which victimized them. His efforts at charity rarely endangered him, but today was different.

As he sprinted, Lawrene felt something brush against his mind. He paid it little heed as his attention gravitated only toward the present. Still, it lingered long enough for Lawrence to notice. A flash of memory reminded him of some old explanation of telepathy and magic. One shake of his head knocked the memory back into his subconscious as he refocused.

_Almost there, _Lawrence thought to himself. He could see the famous whitewashed inner-walls of Tierm draw closer in the distance. Danger still hung over him like the maw of a closing beast. The two men, still shouting, closed in. The guards, stationed around the next corner, would recognize him. Suddenly, a third man jumped out with a shout.

"Hah! Now, we've got you," the man declared with a sneer. Lawrence glanced about for an exit, dashing for an alley. He berated himself, as he realized he'd chosen a dead end. His three pursuers jeered at him as they backed him up against the very walls which he'd sought refuge from only minutes ago. He felt the embroidery of his grey tunic brush roughly against his back as he stood back against the stone.

"Aww," one sneered, "his Goodness is all alone."

"Where your faithful guard now?" the second demanded. Lawrence knew he meant Magnius. A family friend, the renowned swordsman had been hired by his father to watch over him for years.

"Gonna regret not learning to defend yourself now, runt!" the third threatened.

"Don't lay a hand on the Longshanks brat!" a female voice boomed, "at least, not until I say so." Eerie recognition pressed on Lawrence's mind, but he failed to place it with a name or face. "You're either brave or foolish to come here on your own. No one minded your magnanimity until you stuck your nose where you don't belong. We were just protecting people"

"That's what you call extortion?" Lawrence asked, straightening his back. He'd not be cowed so easily, especially when attacked for good works. "I came to stand up for those you protected." He'd regret his sarcasm and defiance. He raised his chin in challenge, then sank to the ground with an "Ugh!" One of the brutes winded him with a gut-punch. The pain kept his mind from noticing the reappearance of the earlier presence. It subtly wormed its way into his mind. The same brute hefted Lawrence up by his collar, and he felt the strain of the cloth.

Despite the hit, Lawrence had regained his breath quickly and felt invigorated. A current of strength poured through him. Undesired lectures from Magnius on self-defense flittered across his mind's eye. He shook his head. That was not his way he reminded himself. He would reason with them. Unnoticeably, the presence hummed disapproval.

"What is to be gained from this?" Lawrence's words received confused looks.

"Are you serious?" the voice came again, a masked woman stepping out from behind a corner. The mask was a simple one made of wood with only two eyes and a mouth curved in a static smile.

"Yes, what good does it do any of you?" Lawrence paused for a minute as he thought he actually had their attention, "All of you live in fear of judgement from the law and cause gratuitous suffering for others." The masked woman titled her head. Hoping the mannerism entailed thought and consideration, Lawrence gambled an offer. "If you four agree to help me in my outreach within this part of Tierm, I can secure full pardon's for each of you." One of the men appeared surprised, but it disappeared when the masked woman chuckled.

"You think we really have trouble with the law?" the woman's mask didn't cover her mouth and revealed her smirk. "After my boys teach you a lesson for interfering, we have a friend who will keep you nice and safe while our employer discusses your intrusive outreach with the council and your father.

"You may not have trouble with the law," a voice began, sounding like the rustle of leaves, "but you have trouble with me."

All eyes gazed upon the stranger. He wore clothes which seemed out of place for the setting. White robes with an expensive crimson, hooded cloak concealed the identity. Yet, Lawrence gaped, recognizing an inhuman trait: long white hair. It was an elf, or so Lawrence assumed. Yet, the voice didn't belong to any of the few he knew who lived in or regularly visited Tierm. Two of the brutes turned and jeered, but the masked woman sensed the trouble the interloper would be. She held up her hand, silencing them.

"We wish no trouble with you," she stated bluntly, "Leave us to our quarry. We have legal authority to enact this arrest." Lawrence gaped with incredulity. He protested, but the man who restrained him quickly clamped down on his mouth.

"Then, we are at an impasse," the stranger said with a hint of mirth, "I also have legal authority delegated to me by his father, Jeod Longshanks. If there is a higher authority than a council member, tell me. Then, the town guard can be notified." The woman grimaced and pulled out a sword strapped to her belt as did her other cronies. "That's not a good idea." The three stood frozen as he lowered his hood. Piercing eyes, a shade of emerald, took in the group.

"Were not getting paid enough for this," yelled the man restraining Lawrence, "he's a damn elf."

"Doesn-" the woman suddenly fell silent as the elf muttered something intelligible to the criminals. Lawrence didn't understand it, but he recognized the sound of the ancient language. Suddenly, the three men each fell to the ground clutching their heads. Lawrence had not heard any words, but he suddenly felt something detach itself from his mind. Intuition pointed his gaze toward the elf. Nevertheless, it was not mistrust, but gratitude that Lawrence voiced first.

"Many thanks, master elf," Lawrence said before the traditional greeting, "Atra du evarínya ono varda."

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," the elf responded kindly, "If you would come with me, your father is waiting for you." Lawrence gave a sigh. The criminal interlopers had prevented him from completing his visit. He'd try again tomorrow, and it couldn't come quick enough. When he'd reached the elf, the four would-be assailants recovered from their invisible bonds. "Now, I suggest you don't linger here. I have reason to believe the city guard is come to investigate a disturbance here."

Their faces paled collectively, and the four made haste. Standing alone for a moment, Lawrence followed when the elf departed. Avoiding the puddle he'd stomped through earlier, Lawrence walked a few paces behind, eyeing the elf with suspicion. Finally, he broke the silence as a group of city guards passed in the direction they came from.

"Did you touch my mind?" Lawrence asked. The chainmail armor clinked on the warriors of Tierm as they marched past the group. The elf glanced at him with a mirthful grin on his face.

"Do you start every conversation like that, _Rextugenos_?" the elf asked sardonically, causing Lawrence to freeze. The stranger laughed.

"Please don't call me that," the young man said flatly as his tone soured, "I hate flattery." This made the elf pause for a moment and eye Lawrence with an implaccable face. The young man stood firm and lifted his head in slight defiance. "My name is Lawrence."

"You may call me argetlam," the elf spoke matter-of-factly. Lawrence noted the title of dragon rider and frowned at the refusal to share names. "I know you do not lack tact, as you displayed the greeting earlier. Now, your father waits for us."

Lawrence nodded curtly, silently berating himself for offending a rider (an elf no less!). He knew he'd hear it from his father later if the rider mentioned it at all. He resigned himself to his potential doom as they neared the white walls of Tierm proper. The slums wrapped around the western part of the city, stretching out into farmland. The gate they passed through was an older one, used mostly by the guards and upper class these days. The traffic they joined here paled in comparison to the chaos, which swirled in the city center.

"Welcome back, young Lawrence," said an elderly guard as they passed. A moment and they had passed under the gatehouse and it's iron portcullis. The street before them looked clean and the houses opulent. Upper-quarter. Lawrence's home sweet (excessive) home. The houses stood a space apart from each and showed their dweller's wealth. Lawrence hid his sense of disgust (with a hint of self-loathing).

"Young Longshanks?" said an elderly voice called from a nearby porch, "What shenanigans have you been up to today with the miry-folk?" Lawrence didn't dignify the question with a response. In silence, he and the "argetlam" continued forward. Since the near-complete destruction of Tierm almost 50 years ago, the rebuilding had unintentionally helped a noticeable class divide. His greatest pet peeve was the expectation everyone had of him because of his family's position. The upper crust of the naval capital expected him to be like them. The poor (among whom he labored) expected him to be like them.

They turned down a corner street and made for a two-story house of a dark oak shade. This house had been purchased by his grandfather who helped finance part of the rebuilding after gaining his merchant as a successful merchant. Despite his frustration with life circumstances, Lawrence still felt the oaken chalet meant home. It helped that his father never let the wealth go to his head, courtesy of his grandfather. His father often compared him to grandpa Christoff. They stepped up to the door and Lawrence held his breath. He'd disobeyed his father by sneaking off this morning, in addition to the now offended elven rider. He wrapped his knuckles against the worn wood and waited. A servant answered with a grin moments later.

"Welcome home, master Lawrence!" the youth nodded with a nervous grin. The servants always used that greeting despite his many protests. They were ushered in and directed to the dining area. The foyer was as it always had been: bright with sunlit windows and its floor blanketed with Surdan carpet. A wide, open archway let them into the feasting hall where two men sat speaking with his father Jeod. Their footsteps thumped on the wood as they approached.

"Ah, my missing son has been found once more," Jeod declared politely, "Returned from another misadventure in the lower town by the looks of it."

"Hello, father," Lawrence started, glancing down momentarily at his mud-caked slacks, "I'm-"

"-Going to meet our other two guests," Jeod finished for his son. Lawrence mutely nodded at the implication of later chastisement. "You remember Captain Baldwin, right?"

"Yes, sir," Lawrence said warmly, smiling wide. The large Surdan man stood to greet Lawrence properly. He stepped over and reached out his hand.

"Last time I saw you, lad, you were only as tall as my waist," Lawrence smiled genuinely at the man's words. He did so as the man's bear paw of a hand grasped his own. He squeezed back tightly trying to lessen the crushing grip, but that only encouraged the man. "Has a good grip, Jeod." His father smiled displaying his pride which lay beneath his frustration with Lawrence's disobedience. "From what I hear you're not afraid to get your hands dirty." Jeod cleared his throat, so he could introduce the second stranger.

Now that they were making eye contact, Lawrence wanted to jump. The man wore a robe of Surdan yellow and an odd mask that covered his whole face. They start at each other a moment before Lawrence's father gave his name. Yet, in that moment, Lawrence had felt a chill run down his spine. He would dismiss it a moment later, but for a moment, Lawrence wanted the man out of his family's house.

"This is the mage Arzud. A high-ranking member of the Surdan court," Lawrence gave a nod of his head a formal greeting, but the wizard remained implacable and silent. The young Longshanks felt like a prey being sized up by a predator. He felt a familiar presence brush his mind and glanced at the elf. He saw a similar discomfort, but defiance stood in place of fear. He had but a moment to wonder how he knew this as the elf's face revealed nothing. Then, Captain Baldwin spoke up again.

"Please excuse the eccentricity of my companion," Baldwin said apologetically, "He's a man of few words."

"Thinking before speaking makes for a wise man," Jeod said with approval, stroking his beard. Lawrence felt the word 'wise' sounded too benevolent. Cunning or conniving fit better if the earlier impression proved true. The moment this thought sounded in his mind Lawrence's brow furrowed visibly. A part of him agreed with this sentiment, but the thought itself felt foreign to him. Besides, he did not want to judge unjustly. Confusion rippled through the mind of the young Longshanks before disappearing. Before his own confusion had a time to form, Jeod broke Lawrence's reverie.

"Did you hear me, son?" Jeod asked. The note of impatience told Lawrence he'd zoned out for a sometime.

"Sorry, father," Lawrence said politely, "I had something on my mind."

"We can talk about that and other things," Jeod said with mild emphasis, "this evening after I've returned. Head Councilwoman Glinda requests a formal introduction to our guests before the choosing ceremony."

"I shall stay here then?" Lawrence asked. That had been the original plan.

"Until Magnius returns," Jeod said, "He's downstairs preparing to visit a friend who arrived with the Varden."

"I thought he had the day off?" Lawrence questioned.

"He does, technically," Jeod said, "Still, he agreed to have you accompany him when he observes the choosing ceremony. This year _will _be different." Lawrence nodded, hiding the glum mood which sagged his shoulders slightly. Each year he'd snuck out on Magnius' day off. The trouble he'd found himself in this year proceeded similar events last year. "Until then, you must entertain our remaining guest."

"Yes, father," Lawrence said. He felt both resolute and resigned. His father had him entertain guests before, and it increased as he grew older. In another year, Lawrence knew his father would put him to full time work co-running the family business. The business heir-apparent didn't feel unequipped, but his time would be more divided, his personal involvement in outreach diminished.

Beyond this, Lawrence's heart stung at the knowledge he'd failed to keep a promise. His new friend wouldn't be able to attend his last opportunity at being chosen by a dragon. The bitter irony of his attendance was not lost on Lawrence, but all this introspection did not breach the mask his father taught him to wear in formal settings. With his day mapped out, Lawrence soon bid his father and their two Surdan guests farewell.

"Well," Magnius began, a few minutes after his employer left, "I take it you've caused more trouble this year?" Lawrence opened his mouth to apologize, but Magnius waved his right hand dismissively. "I take it as providence. A few years more, and you'll have missed the choosing for a decade." Lawrence shifted uncomfortably in his dining room seat at the thought. His sleeves brushed against the polished wooden surface.

"That's your fault really," Lawrence said redirecting the conversation, "it started with you and your books."

"Guilty," Magnius said, lifting his left hand from the bronze-like pommel of his sword, "I'll and head out, so as to not distract you more than I have from your guest." Lawrence nodded, wished and him well on his visit. As Magnius turned to leave, a word from their so far silent guest stirred a childhood curiosity.

"Give your friend my regards," the elven rider said. In the seven years Magnius had guarded Lawrence, the swordsman for hire had always mentioned his friend enigmatically. His unanswered questions still hung in the air when Magnius left with a warm, knowing smile. After his boots padded across the dinning room and foyer floors, Magnius shut the door behind him with a slight thump. Now alone with the elf. Magnius stood and straightened his shoulders. Time to entertain.

"I wanted to thank you again for earlier," Lawrence started, "and if you're willing, I'd like to know who I am thanking." The elf, who seemed completely relaxed, gave what appeared to be a wry smile. He sat back in his chair before speaking.

"You may yet call me ebrithil," Lawrence nodded stiffly, betraying his irritation to the perceptive elf.

"Should I ring for the servant to bring some refreshments?" Lawrence asked redirecting the conversation and leaving behind his continued frustration.

"Has not your father given them the day off?"

"Mostly, they work this day in shifts to permit each to attend a part of the ceremony. Is there any topic which you'd like? Perhaps something of history or of the choosing ceremony? You could educate me, and I would relish an opportunity to learn." Lawrence waited for a response, but the elf sat their in thoughtful repose. With his frustration set aside, Lawrence strove to genuinely engage with the guest. He enjoyed history, and this might be a rare opportunity. The elf's chair creaked slightly as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table.

"You speak true, but I have curiosity same as you," Lawrence now tilted his head, confused, "If I share some history with you, will you share some of yourself with me?"

"Very well," Lawrence responded with a mix of confusion and excitement. Annoyances aside, young Longshanks typically enjoyed speaking with the few elves who resided in Tierm. Long lives and long memories meant long stories. Lawrence's itch of curiosity would be scratched after all.

"I was there," the rider began, "when Vrael dueled Galbatorix the Treacherous…"

_Vrael lay across from his dragon atop a batter stone tower. Dragon fire choked the air over the once beautiful capital of Doru Araeba. Screeches and roars echoed through the darkened skies as dragons fought and died. The shouts of riders could be heard through the chaos. He lay there, propped up on his elbows , wondering how they'd fallen so far. _

_'Vrael,' Umaroth rumbled wearily, 'ready yourself. The oath-breaker comes.' Then, in a stunt Vrael had seen no rider achieve, a figure jumped from the black behemoth above. As Shurikan embattled a proud, sapphire dragoness, Vrael screamed as pain racked his body. A blade pierced his (Umaroth's) neck. He gasped in between his breathless shouts as he felt the traitor's blade through the bond. As his dragon's consciousness faded, a surge of power came to Vrael from his partner of heart and mind. Rage. Justice. Revenge. Victory. These goals stood before him. This would end here. _

_*Oath-breaker,* Vrael yelled in the ancient lanugage, feeling the strength of his fallen brother, *your reign ends here.*_

_"Vrael," Galbatorix called back with a savage smile, "you die today, oh greatest of the hypocrites."_

_*Your dragon's death was upon your own heads,* Vrael rebuked, *and every death you've caused since then!*_

_"You claim to be protectors," Galbatorix spat, "Yet, beasts like the urgals roam the hills and forests. You claim to have the best interests of all at heart, but elves look arrogantly down at the other races, proud in your vain magic." By now, they stood a few meters apart blades at the ready. Vrael guardedly stretched out his consciousness and felt the might of dragonkind's free remnant link with him. He sensed the tortured and bent minds which empowered his foe. A unanimous vow from the merged minds would set them free. _

_Then began a duel unparalleled in history as spell flew and blades clashed. On the immaterial plane of consciousness, dragons, disembodied as they were, fought once more. Galbatorix fought with the vigor of youth, dark magics, and the rage of a mad dragon(s). Vrael utilized the wisdom of age, the resolve of a just cause, and his knowledge of the ancient language to match the oath-breaker blow for blow. If any were to look at the tower, lights flashed when spells manifested. The very swords they wielded looked as sabers of light. _

_"You will taste the grief and madness I have, elf," the oath breaker spat as he found himself slowly reaching his limit. Despite their torturous enslavement, Galbatorix's dragons lacked the resolve and indignation Vrael's allies held. _

_After another bout, time slowed as Vrael raised his blade. He saw into the oath-breaker's eyes and saw unimaginable despair and grief. The other half of his heart was missing. Yet, before Vrael could hesitate, he noticed the other side of the coin. Madness aimed to make everyone share his suffering. Umaroth's pain and rage flooded him from an unimaginable distance and Islingr, Vrael's sword, removed the oath-breaker's head._

"After that the tide of battle turned against the forsworn," the rider said, summarizing the rest, "and I assume you know the rest."

"Yes," Lawrence said, bittersweetly, "it kept evil at bay." Despite the evident benefit Galbatorix's death brought about, Lawrence felt a twinge of sorrow.

"What bothers you?" The elf asked, noting Lawrence's slightly furrowed brow.

"I feel sorrow for the tragedy that befell the dark rider," Lawrence said before sensing… anger(?) from the elf. Yet, the elf looked completely at ease, even nodded sympathetically.

"The former leader of the riders felt the same."

"I don't think I could've done what he did though," Lawrence admitted softly. This made the elf raise his eye brows.

"You would spare him and grant the chance for extended suffering?" young Longshanks winced at the wording of the elf's question.

"I just don't think I could bring myself to end another person's life," Lawrence lifted his cowed head to face the elf, "Life is too precious." The elf rose from the table and turned toward the window. Lawrence saw a distant look come over the normally stoic elf.

"You are willing to die," the elf said evenly, "but what about when others need you to live?" Silence hung in the air as Lawrence stood there stumped. "What of city guards or dragon riders? They live by the sword for the benefit of others. Are the lives they take more precious than the ones they protect." The youth leaned back in his chair, taking in the odd turn their conversation took.

"Is there a particular interest you have in my particular views?" Lawrence said attempting a redirect. His chair creaked as he shifted uncomfortably. The implications dug into his heart. It cried no but found itself against trapped.

"You did promise to share something of yourself if I indulged you," the elf said matter-of-factly, "I will only ask one more question. Do you think you could hold such an ethic if you stood in a similar position?"

"May I never face-" Lawrence began reflexively. Yet, the pause he took allowed some small voice inside to answer, _Yes. _There had to be another way. "Yes… I could- I would do that!" Lawrence stood, but then flushed as he realized it.

"Feel no shame," the elf said warmly, "I disagree, but I do not dismiss your words… or your conviction." For the first time since their meeting, Lawrence felt open to the elf. A pause ensued as the elf resumed his seat, a companionable silence. Only the scuffing of the chair on the wooden floor sounded in the room. "On a related note, do you plan to participate in the ceremony or merely attend?"

"I will only be attending."

"Not tempting fate, then?" the elf asked with bemused smirk. Why did he smirk? Elves didn't lack emotion, but stoicism and manner reigned supreme. This elf showed more facial expressions than all other elves in Tierm combined. Setting these thoughts aside, the question itself made Lawrence frown.

"I said I would find another way if in that position," Lawrence replied firmly, "I'll participate this year to prove it." The elf smiled but that inflamed Lawrence more. He did not feel indignant or angry. He felt daring.

**Author's Note:**

_I've posted several failed fics, and an innumerable number of ideas have come and gone. Thankfully, time and discipline have yield something worth presenting. A keen and kind soul, Brightwatcher, has beta-read the first several chapters. However, I am looking for another beta-reader. Send a private message if interested._


	2. Chapter 2: Chosen

Chapter 2: Chosen

Lawrence had surprised Magnius. When the sellsword returned, he found his charge ready and waiting. They set out with haste toward the overcrowded center plaza. Grand houses passed on either side as they sauntered forward. Lawrence uncharacteristically stood at the head of their trio. The stoic elf flanked his left with Magnius parallel to his right.

Lawrence slowed his pace as he began to perspire under the noonday, summer sun. With a silent thanks to no-one in particular, Lawrence paused under the raised portcullis of the Uptown gatehouse. He surveyed the district before them as the trio stood off to the side. Wealthier citizens of Tierm passed them by some coming, others going.

In front of them, a gentle slope lowered into the heart of Tierm: the Grand Market. The bulk of the trade and festivals in Tierm occurred there. All the merchants (those who couldn't afford Uptown) and craftsman lived there with their families. The district took up twice as much space as Uptown. Lawrence enjoyed visiting because, while prosperous, it lacked the pompous attitude of his home district.

"What makes you so eager to arrive?" Magnius asked, breaking the silent rest.

"I am proving a point," Lawrence said flatly, "Let's continue. I mean to participate this year." He then set off, leaving his bodyguard with mouth agape. As the trio descended the gentle slope, the elf explained the wager. Magnius gave a hearty laugh. Lawrence felt the need to have a determined look as the crowd swallowed them up and pressed them close.

"Providence moves today," Magnius called over the noise. The sellsword press closed as numerous bodies brushed against him. He finagled his way in front of Lawrence as they navigated the stuffed street. The elf trailed skillfully behind, somehow keep his personal bubble intact despite the masses.

"What do you mean?" Magnius often mentioned his benevolent "providence" in side-comments or expressions of joy. Still, Lawrence learned some time ago that his bodyguard took "providence" seriously. Dedication to their respective beliefs is something Magnius and Lawrence had in common.

"I dreamt last night that this year would be different for you," Magnius said cheerily. Lawrence paled slightly. The elf had joked earlier about tempting fate. Fate and Providence (at least as Magnius explained it) seemed nigh identical. A glance backward as he parted two people alerted the sellsword to his charges distress. "I only knew it would be different. Besides, all shall be well."

"Your optimism never ceases," the elf commented. His voice seemed to rise above the din of the street without being too loud. The crowd only thickened as they drew near to the plaza center. Merchants hocked their wares in the large plaza as people milled about. The center of the plaza provides one of three spaces in the city where the choosing was being conducted. A plaza watched over by a councilman, two riders, and a mixed unit of city guards and Varden warriors.

Despite the masses, Lawrence took in the warrior servants of the riders from a distance. They wore their iconic scale-mail. Crafted by a team of human and elven smiths, each suit resembled dragon scales. Two dragons, the colors of a ruby and a white opal, surveyed the crowds. Their riders in ceremonial armor matching their dragons coloring stood by Councilman Haddock. Magnius and Lawrence both paused with a childlike wonder at the two jewel-like predators guarding their unhatched kin.

Lawrence resolved long ago that his dream was to better Tierm and serve others. Yet, the sight of dragons clawed up a dream buried long ago. Like so many other boys, dragons were cool. Riding one? Life's greatest privilege. It meant adventure, magic, and great deeds. Lawrence grew up with the same deified picture of the riders. His father's stories of adventure, particularly with a rider or two, hadn't helped.

Magnius continued to gaze for a moment longer. Lawrence, though, shook his head trying to shake out his rose-tinted memories. Surveying the scene with more objective lenses, Lawrence paid more attention to Councilman Haddock. His father's biggest competitor, the rival merchant had bought his way to the Council versus his father's unfunded election. Dubious ventures aside, the man did his job so well the others on the council (his father included) excused his character faults.

The man drew nearer as the trio rounded the back of the short line. The nearly completed line showed Councilman Haddock's effectiveness. Magnius had told him his father, working with Chairwoman Glinda still had over two hundred people to work through. A table with a team of three secretaries sat surrounded by mounds of papers. Lists, pages long, stood under scrutiny of the clerks.

"Name?" One asked in monotone.

"Lawrence Longshanks," the youth responded, drawing a momentary look from all the clerks.

"Age?"

"19 summers."

"Remember next year is your last." Lawrence nodded as he stepped into the line with his small entourage. As they began to wait, Lawrence mulled over his situation. After the wager was over and his year final year passed, he'd be out of the pool of potential riders. Final year. Something clicked in Lawrence's brain as the words refused to leave his mind. He'd broken his promise. He'd been in the slums this morning for one reason only. A new friend needed a stand in to open an opportunity to attend his last year for the choosing.

Guilt and bitter irony stabbed at young Longshanks' heart. Guilt for the promise he'd broken, and irony that he should attend the event he'd all but sworn to avoid. He'd never actually sworn to do it, at least not verbally. He'd avoided it out of a sense of self-pity when he was little. Yet, this changed into a focus on other priorities when he began his outreach. He sighed and waved a dismissive hand when Magnius shot him a questioning glance. He put on a determined face. He couldn't change his circumstances. No use worrying about it.

Another hour passed as the next six people went. 10 minutes with the four eggs. It seemed but a moment, but it took days when you dealt with thousands of potential riders. The eggs were divided into three groups and rotated between locations over the course of three days. Today was the final day, and Lawrence would only be visiting one group.

He made this compromise. He'd show that he was unafraid to (as much as he could) put action behind his words. Still, Magnius' earlier comment and the elf's jest gnawed at him. He stood at the precipice of change in his life. He'd spent the past several years preparing more and more to take over his father's trade network. Jeod felt his son should have the chance to enjoy his youth. Yet, Lawrence made no plans to leave, so a compromise would be struck. Lawrence could continue and advance his outreach in Tierm if he began to co-run his father's trade network.

"If you don't want to travel," his father had jested, "then I will… with your mother of course."

He watched the last contender ahead of him descend the other side of the platform. The trio ascended to replace them. Boots thumped against the stairs. A city guard and Varden warrior made to stop the elf and Magnius, but a flash of the elf's palm resolved the situation. The two dragons who towered over the platform eyed the entourage but paid the potential rider no mind. Lawrence was very okay with that.

He felt illogically nervous. His chances were slim. One in thousands, even hundreds of thousands. He walked up to the first egg. It felt warm to the touch and smooth like polished steel. The shell bore a cream color, like dawn's twilight. Nothing happened. So, after a minute there and odd sensation in his head, he moved to the next, a leaf-green egg. Nothing again.

His nervousness began to recede. He smiled to himself. Two more, and he was done. Who said he had to stay for the whole ten minutes. The third egg drew his attention. From within its opal shell (identical to one of the dragons), he felt something really prod his mind, weighing and judging. His heart began to race again.

_Please no, _He thought to himself (or maybe to the slumbering hatchling inside).

"Lawrence Longshanks," a familiar voice said, "are you ill?" Lawrence's pulse settled when he glanced at Councilman Haddock. Dubiousness and familial rivalry aside, Mr. Haddock had never seemed a malevolent type. "You look as if expecting a calamity?"

"Sorry," Lawrence said, "nervous and distracted." Despite catching the glances of the two dragons and now their riders, Lawrence still felt less nervous. Even more so when the pressure on his mind receded. "I've not been to the ceremony in over half a decade."

"Just inquiring," the man said with a hint of amusement, "wouldn't want an unfair advantage over my future rival." Being younger than his father, Lawrence would likely compete with Mr. Haddock for some years before he passed his business on to his-

"Daddy!" a young girl of seven shouted. A servant looked greatly distressed a short distance from the platform. "Where have you been all day?" Mr. Haddock's daughter Lute looked at her father with the innocuous indignance only a child could muster.

"How did you get away from Charlotte today, princess?" Mr. Haddock also unashamedly doted on his daughter.

"I thought really hard and ran faster!" Lute also happened to be a prodigy with magic. While nowhere near as adept as an elf or elven child, the young Lute Haddock showed skill which took other human magicians years to gain. "I just- ohh!"

The opal colored egg began to rock. Lawrence's breathing hitched. Everyone stood still: riders, rider-hopefuls, guards, onlookers. Everyone stopped once people saw an egg move. A small crack. Then a web of tiny fractures across the left side. Violent rocking and a few chipped off pieces showing opal scales. The dragon with matching scales seemed particularly excited and leaned its head closer. A moment later the egg burst open.

It looked at Lawrence. His hand was open, but he was frozen. It jumped down from the pedestal its egg was on. It sniffed in the young Longshanks' direction. Lawrence's face would've turned blue if he held his breath a moment longer. With an audible breath of relief, the dragon turned in the direction of Lute. The flooding sense of relief distracted the youth from the new mind prodding his.

"Daddy!" the seven-year-old ordered, "Can you put me down for a moment?" The father had an incredulous look in his eye. He normally had to battle his daughter to not pick her up. Now, she wanted down? Mr. Haddock didn't look ready. Reluctantly, young Lute found herself lowered, and she tenderly put out her left hand. In a flash of light a moment later, the little girl collapsed back into his arms. The gedwey insignia could be seen on her left palm. Mr. Haddock looked all kinds of shook-up.

Like the rider, the hatchling also lay unconscious, her sides gently rising and falling. Everyone cheered (except Mr. Haddock). Lawrence looked at the new pair joyfully. Joy for the new bond that was struck. Yet, more importantly, joy for the continuity of his plans. He turned to the elven rider with an unabashed look of triumph.

"The world we live in is marred by violence," he spoke so only they and Magnius could here, "I wish to spend my life changing that. That, I believe, is my fate." The elf seemed unphased by Lawrence's triumphalism. He merely walked across the platform. Around them, the Varden, the city guards, and the other riders were a flurry of activity. In the blur, Lawrence followed the intentional steps of the elf.

"Two more minutes," he said with a gesture toward the fourth egg. Lawrence didn't feel nervous anymore. He was still determined to follow his dream, dragon or no. So, his face set like stone, he stepped up to the last egg. One of the riders (another elf), looked back and motioned for two of the Varden to watch young Longshanks as he finished his attempt. Young Lute made a scene, and they nearly forgot whose turn it was.

Sun light bounced off the orange shell of the fourth egg. It looked aflame, and Lawrence felt intimidated. No, he would at least lay his hand upon the egg. The subtle prodding in his mind finally garnered his attention. He couldn't tell anyone later if they'd asked him what changed, but any anxiety fled before his determination. He'd resolved to fight for his dream no matter what. So, this event held no more anxiety. A dragon would certainly change things, but he would fight for his dream.

_Will you fight?_ While it registered as a question in his mind, the message had been wordless. It came as a questioning of his determination, a judgment of his grit. If he bonded with this dragon, would he fight for his dream all the same?

_Yes. _Then the end came. The end of his plans. The end of this chapter of his life. Fate or Providence (whichever you prefer) had spoken. Maybe fate or providence was a dragon. Lawrence removed his hand and stepped back. The egg rocked as cracks appeared and quickly spider-webbed across the shell. The hatchling broke free a moment later.

_A fighter?_ Lawrence mused. He stepped forward to the surprise of those around him. Only two stood unsurprised. Magnius glanced skyward, before lowering his head with a chuckle. The ancient elven rider merely smiled. The entourage watched as Lawrence extended a hand. Another flash of light and Lawrence knew no more.

_**Author's Note:  
**_So begins July. I have been dealing with personal issues and a measure of procrastination. Yet, this month is the last event for Camp NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). My goals for this even includes prep for a writing project this November, regular updates of this fanfic, and other short works. I appreciate the first review and the two follows my first chapter garnered and hope that the second had met any expectations set by the preceding one. While I plan on having weekly updates, I open the floor to the first few readers. Any preferences for which day to update on?


	3. Chapter 3: Unmet Expectations

Chapter 3: Unmet Expectations

He knew no more until the sun peered through his window. As his mind struggled to disentangle itself from the cords of sleep, he turned onto his left side. Aside from the sheets rubbing against his skin, Lawrence felt someone else lying near his bed's end. The feeling of scales against his foot told him everything. Sleep's cords were severed, and the new rider sat straight up in bed.

The sudden movement caused the slumbering hatchling to stir. It lifted its head and eyed its rider half-consciously. Yesterday's end came back to Lawrence in a flood. Images and sensations indescribable flashed before his mind's eye for moment, like water passing through his hands. Subconsciously, he brought his hands together and began rubbing the new, _permanent _scar on his right hand. The skin felt smooth and healthy, but his eyes lingered on its silver sheen when he gazed down at it.

Reality was surreal. Lawrence struggled to take in the implications of yesterday. He was (_is) _a dragon rider. His mind raced with details of the uncertain future. Whatever would pass, it would pass outside of Tierm. The road ahead ran off away from his home and his passion. Yesterday had gone nothing like he expected. Thoughts filled his mind to the point where he couldn't think. A sigh of laden emotion escaped his lips.

Hunger pressed in his mind. It came as a request at the outset, but it became more insistent until Lawrence's overcrowded mind made some space. He lifted his gaze to see his new partner of heart and mind (the phrase was new but instinctual to him). The hatchling stood up with its head slightly tilted. While pressing its hunger, the dragon also seemed to be taking in Lawrence. The new rider did reciprocated the examination..

"Fire-jewel," Lawrence said thoughtlessly. Then again, it was exactly what he thought. The dragon's scales had a jewel like reflection, and the scales possessed the tint of flame without its inherent glow. The sunlit room provided the necessary light. So, a fire-jewel, in the shape of a dragon stood on Lawrence's bed.

Two other emotions wormed their way into Lawarence's mind through the new bond: bemusement and…stroked pride(?). Lawrence's partner drew closer and laid its head between Lawrence's now open palms. The mark on his right hand tingled slightly at the contact. Surrealness and trepidation aside, Lawrence instinctively sent reciprocal affection through the bond. The hatchling thrummed its pleasure audibly. A moment later though, hunger was all that remained.

"Let's get you fed," Lawrence said as he swung himself to the right. Simultaneously, he uncovered his legs. Cool hardwood met his bare feet. As he made to exit his room, his eyes roamed over his garments. The servant had likely dressed him for bed after he'd been carried back. He had no memory of changing into his night clothes. With a shrug, he left is room. The door clicked lightly as he turned the knob and closed with a soft thump behind him.

The hatchling followed him as he descended the stairs. Through their bond, Lawrence still felt its hunger, but it no longer felt insistent. They moved to satisfy it, so Lawrence's mind drifted once more. His thoughts turned back to yesterday as he turned left at the stair's bottom.

His memory went further back as Lawrence moved further toward the kitchen. He saw a maid cleaning the table with Magnius standing in a red gambeson nearby. They merely nodded at each other in acknowledgement. Lawrence's mind registered the smells of the kitchen, but he paid no mind to his own hunger. Memories held his attention.

"Can I have some salted meat for my friend here?" Lawrence asked in a distracted tone. The hatchling paid it no mind. It was about to be fed, and that's what mattered.

"Yes, master Lawrence," responded a butler. Lawrence set his hand against a rough wooden table, leaning against it as he waited. He frowned as his review of yesterday reached the attempted attack. Like his own expectations, someone else's plans had gone awry. Another sigh came from Lawrence, but this one laden with frustration and tension. How would he tell Kaldor? Not only had he not kept his promise, but he'd become a dragon rider himself.

_Chirrup! _Lawrence heard the sound but felt the indignation within himself.

"No," he assured his dragon, "I am not upset you chose me." Lawrence might've questioned how quickly he responded, but the answer felt _right._ He reached down to rub the head of the hatchling who'd butted its small head against his leg. He felt its still-soft claws rake against his shin when it ran a paw against his pants.

"Here is lunch for the young master's friend," said the voice of the butler a moment later, "Shall I fetch anything for the new rider himself?" The butler's tone, one of wonder and pride, caused Lawrence to smile. The young Longshanks shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, "there is something I am wanting to do first." The thought of lunch had stayed in his brain, and another idea formed around it. He'd made the decision he would tell his friend. He tell him this very day. As a new rider, his responsibilities and new journey would quickly begin. Time was short. With a quick turn, Lawrence walked brusquely back into the dining room. Magnius stood staring out over the sunny day in Uptown.

"You have that look in your eye," Magnius commented wryly.

"Would you be willing to help me with something?" Lawrence asked.

"What did you need me to do?"

"I broke a promise and can't afford to wait for another opportunity to talk with the person I failed. It was Kaldor…" Lawrence trailed off. His steely determination gave way to a small look of pleading. As a new rider, it's probably not wise wandering through the sketchier parts of town, not yet at least. "Would you personally escort Kaldor and his grandmother here for lunch? Tell them it is an open invitation."

"You plan to tell him then?"

"I ought to."

"Very well," Magnius acquiesced, "but as you said, you must stay within this house." With a curt nod from both of them, Magnius quickly departed. Lawrence took a deep breath, realizing what he just set in motion.

"Bertrand!" Lawrence called, and the butler appeared a moment later, "I know what I'd like for lunch."

An hour or two later, lunch's aroma wafted through the whole down stairs. The table stood set and ready to host. Lawrence sat in his desk chair back up with in his room. He'd changed out of his night clothes and donned a red tunic, brown trousers, and brown vest. A pair of soft leather gloves concealed his new marking. He sat staring at his partner as they finished their last mental bout.

_Stay, _Lawrence said to the tiny dragon. The word carried urgency, pleadings, and determination.

"_Chirrup!" _The hatchling laid down after verbalizing one last protest. It sent a sense of acquiescence through their bond.

"Thank you, my fire-jewel," Lawrence said affectionately. Flattery or not the hatchling rumbled it's acceptance and enjoyment of the title. Then, a maid knocked on the door.

"Sir," she addressed Lawrence deferentially, "Magnius has returned."

"Thank you," Lawrence said as he rose from his bed. The maid departed, and Lawrence rubbed his friend's snout one more time. Another deep breath. He could do this. A moment later, the door shut behind him.

When Lawrence reached the main floor. His eyes immediately locked with the hazel eyes of his ebony-skinned friend. They'd only known each other for a little over two years, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Lawrence got the city guard involved with the extortion he observed. That's when he and Kaldor first met. Before either of them could break the tense silence, a crooning voice sounded.

"Thank you," said Granny Dorah, "you fine, _strong_ man for escorting us." Magnius gave a polite nod and extricated himself from the elderly woman's embrace. Granny Dorah, as Lawrence knew her, had raised Kaldor for almost a decade. Her son, Kaldor's father, passed in a suspicious blaze along with his mother. While healthier than normal for someone her age, her mind didn't possess the same wholeness.

"Welcome, both of you," Lawrence said, forcing himself to appear amicable. Granny Dorah turned around and moved to embrace him. The simple tan dress she wore twirled slightly as she moved. Lawrence returned the embrace, but his eyes stayed on Kaldor. His friend wore similarly colored clothing. Instead of continuing to reciprocate the gaze, Kaldor looked off to the side. "I hope the walk was well?"

"Yeah," Kaldor said preceded by a sigh, "the old man up the street continued his heckling, but no trouble." Lawrence saw his friend force a smile towards the end of the sentence. Good. He might not be too upset then.

"Lunch is ready," Lawrence said, gesturing to the set table," and I myself am hungry if you'd all like to join me." Kaldor's stomach grumbled and brought a genuine smile to his friend's face. Thank providence for life's comic relief. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

A minute passed as they sat down. The table had a white sheet draped over it and simple dishware arranged for the meal. When Kaldor had taken his seat, he picked up a wooden spoon and fiddled with it. Lawrence himself traced the smoothed rim of his bowl. He sat up straight and called for Bertrand when Magnius had seated Granny Dorah beside Kaldor and himself afterwards.

The smell of the stew waxed strong when Bertrand wheeled a small, wooden cart into the dining room. The wheels squeaked a little as they turned. The butler moved in a semi-circle, ladling food into each bowl. Lawrence set aside his anxious underpinnings as he'd yet to eat anything today. A moment later, a companionable silence passed over the group as they ate.

When the food dwindled, Granny Dorah began a stream-of-thought commentary. From the food to the dishware, she had a memory she wanted to share. Magnius seemed genuinely interested, but Kaldor and Lawrence resumed their equivalent twiddling of thumbs. That is, until Dorah address her grandson.

"Why are you two silent?" she asked in a period of remarkable clarity, "You two usually ask me to not interrupt, not that I'm not enjoying myself." Lawrence and Kaldor looked at each other, and Lawrence sighed. He wanted to- no. He would tell his friend, but… where to begin. He honestly still struggled to wrap his head around the new reality that was his life.

"Why?" Kaldor asked. Lawrence almost missed it. In his momentary introspection, Lawrence's hatchling had reached out with a sense of encouragement through their bond.  
"I tried."

"But you didn't." Kaldor said, bitterness edging into his tone, "It was my last chance, Lawrence. I—" The scraping of wood against wood distracted them as Granny Dorah stood up and meandered towards another room. Kaldor could only sigh and hang his head in his hands.

"I can take care of this," Magnius said sympathetically, following the wandering elder.

"I was attacked," Lawrence revealed, pushing the conversation forward. Kaldor's eyes widened in surprise, "I was on my way to your residence when I got chased by a group of thugs who're somehow connected to the late extortion group."

"Why though?" Kaldor questioned, "It's been over two years." Lawrence merely shrugged.

"I wish I knew, but that's what happened. Then, an associate of my father called the town guards. After a brief respite here, I followed my father's mandate to attend the choosing ceremony with Magnius." Lawrence glanced unnoticeably around the room, thankful that Magnius was out of earshot. He would tell all, but one bit at a time. Lawrence gave a sigh of relief as Kaldor's features softened and appeared sympathetic. The sympathy though gave way to weariness and sorrow.

"It was my last chance," Kaldor mourned, "the Varden and two of the riders have already set out."

"I'm sor—"

"No," Kaldor held up his hand, "don't apologize. I am sad to have missed it, but you did nothing wrong." Kaldor hung his head once more in his palms. Lawrence scooted his chair back and rose. A quick walk around the table's end lead him to Magnius' seat. He put a hand on Kaldor's shoulder. "I had to corral her all day yesterday. I love her, but I am just tired of it. Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's not," Lawrence comforted.

"I feel like she's all there is to my life," Kaldor confessed. While Granny Dorah had raised Kaldor, the roles quickly reversed as her mental health began to deteriorate over the past three years. "I don't even have work now."

"What do you mean?" Lawrence asked. He leaned forward, chair creaking beneath him as he did so. A captain employed by his father had taken on Kaldor as a regular worker. His friend explained the retirement of the captain and his layoff which soon resulted from new ownership.

"It feels selfish, but I hoped that I'd be chosen to have a future as a rider," Kaldor's

breathing hitched, emotion surfacing, "If I was a rider, I know where I'd go after Dorah… you know." Lawrence nodded sympathetically. Kaldor sat back, breathing deeply. Having calmed himself, (though the weariness remained) Kaldor gave a weak smile to his friend. "Thank you for trying, truly. Besides at least you'll be around."

Lawrence looked away in pain. He stood as his friend's hope. It might be unwise to put all your eggs in one basket, but what if that was all you had? Lawrence, unwittingly as it was, removed Kaldor's only basket.

"I wanted to speak to you about that," Lawrence spoke softly. His heart raced as he readied himself. The urge to redirect and avoid the subject flared. Inner determination made his decision immutable. He'd be honest with his friend. "I need to bring down a friend from upstairs."

The short journey to and from his room seemed like a short eternity, each step a life age. Yet, he made it there and back again. Cradled in his arms now, his fire-jewel fixed its eyes on Kaldor, weighing its rider's friend.

The young, ebony man stared transfixed at the small-scale dragon before him. The opportunity he craved so much stood before him, yet entirely out of reach. Nevertheless, bitterness and sorrow held no sway over Kaldor as he reached out to touch the little dragon which now shared the soul of his friend.

The hatchling glanced at its rider, as if asking permission or maybe confirmation. Lawrence nodded and watched his friend jerk back momentarily. The little dragon had thrust its head into the waiting palm Kaldor outstretched. Lawrence watched his friend gaze at his palm with a sense of thrill and wonder, but it didn't stay. As if reality had sunk in, Kaldor frowned and clenched his hand in a fist. So close, but unreachably far. He stood with a deep breath.

"I made a bet with a guest of my father," Lawrenec admitted, "and tempting fate lead to this development." Kalor gazed at the bonded pair, an implacable mask hiding his mood. Another deep breath came.

"Thank you for telling me this," Kaldor said evenly, "for the lunch… and everything. This… is just… too much for me right now." As if moved by providence, Granny Dorah and Magnius reappeared at that exact moment. "Granny," Kaldor said with forced softness, "I think it's time that we go."

"Okay, dear," Dorah agreed warmly. Lawrence watched the whole transaction in silence. Another two minutes passed and Lawrence heard the 'clack' the front door made as it closed behind the pair. Lawrence sat down. His dragon began to nuzzle him, its rider's distress reverberating across the bond. Lawrence stroked it thoughtlessly in response. Magnius waited patiently, anticipating something from his charge.

"I promise to remain here," Lawrence said numbly, "Could you make sure they return safely?" With a knowing look and nod, Lawrence's friend and guard departed.

The day passed, but Lawrence remained. That evening, he sat at table with his father, Magnius and their three guests. His dragon ate its supper behind his chair. The elf informed him of the upcoming plans for departure in the coming days. It stoked the ache in his heart over his friend. He knew the dwindling hours before he'd leave. While other concerns arose, only his friend stuck in his mind.

Despite this, Lawrence ate steadily. A fresh piece of warm ham greeted his taste buds as he consumed his dinner. Magnius glanced occasionally at his charge while the others conversed. When the food had dwindled, and the conversation slowed, it was Captain Baldwin who broached Lawrence first.

"What ails your heart, lad?" The captain asked. Jeod had always told his son that Baldwin read people well. With a sigh, Lawrence matter-of-factly recounted the days events. All except the enigmatic Azrud displayed sympathy verbally or visibly. It seemed to matter little. Yet, Baldwin took the lead offering a solution. "Maybe I can help with that."

"What do you mean?" Lawrence asked, hope easing his sorrow.

"I've a personal aid that has run off," Baldwin related, "while out of his character, I can't find him and don't have time to stick around. I leave with you, being the Surdan ambassador and all." Lawrence connected the dots, straightening and smiling.

Baldwin, like Lawrence and his father Jeod before him, had read some of the books Magnius had shared. Yet, being much older, he'd had much more time to practice what he read about: compassion. The seasoned sailor and former soldier turned ambassador smiled at his friend's son.

"I see your efforts," Baldwin said, "you've no doubt made your father proud, exceeding expectations in charity." Lawrence shied away at the complement, but he caught a glimpse of his father's beaming face. His heart soared as any son in his situation would. "It'd be unjust if I failed to help where I could. If your friend works as hard as you've said, a little help will send him a long way. I'd like to take him on as a personal aid. I'll train him to boot!"

Around the table joy radiated from the face of each. Azrud's reaction alone could not be depicted as his mask hid nearly all emotion. No one paid him any mind, and Lawrence wondered if providence moved. To more than Baldwin, he said…

"Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4: Fond Farewells

Chapter 4: Fond Farewells

The following day, nostalgia assaulted Lawrence from the moment he stepped into the slums. The streets passed as marched on with good news. Each street seemed _different._ To the contrary, it was just the growing reality that he'd not walk these streets indefinitely after another two days. Even the awful stench which choked out some streets held a deep sense of familiarity. Another sniff and Lawrence decided the smell of rotten eggs wouldn't be missed (at least not that much).

'Splash' went the sound of steps in a puddle. Magnius followed close behind, so the new rider expected no trouble today. His hatchling had sent irritation across their bond when he'd communicated his departure earlier that day. Thankfully, the elf proved more than capable of handling one hatchling.

Lawrence returned himself completely to the present as he approached the habitation of his friend. Like most of the housing in this part of the city, the dwelling before him sat very dilapidated. It was cleaner despite this, at least in comparison to others. Kaldor did what maintenance he could. Lawrence stepped up to the rough-hewn door and knocked.

The eyes that greeted him broke his heart a little. Maybe bitterness poisoned the thoughts of his friend as they looked upon one another. Perhaps grief (potentially temporary) at the loss of their friendship due to circumstance. Whatever harsh realities weighed on his friend, Kaldor had a callous look about him.

"Hey," Kaldor said flatly. Another moment of silence passed, and Kaldor forced a smile. Lawrence had cringed when he saw his friend's countenance, then he remembered the good news he brought.

"I have a job for you," Lawrence declared. His friend rolled his eyes, but he seemed a little lighter in the moment. "You'll have to come with me to Vroengard though."

"What?!" Kaldor blurted. Lawrence grinned deeply. It reached from eye to eye.

"Can we come inside?" Lawrence asked. With a vigorous nod, Kaldor ushered Lawrence and Magnius inside. The inside was very small and simple. They had a hearth off to the left and a table for four to the right. Shelves took up the remaining wall space. A drawn curtain at the back concealed the room with two straw beds for the occupants of the house.

A small fire crackled in the hearth, keeping the inside dry and warm. Lawrence took in the familiar sight of the wattle and daub walls. Kaldor disappeared behind the bedroom curtain. Lawrene heard him talk with (he assumed) Granny Dorah. He heard the cloth curtain shuffle as Kaldor reentered the main room. The earlier surprise on his face hadn't abated.

"Um…" Kaldor began, his hard expression from earlier all but erased, "how did- what is the job?" Lawrence gestured to the table. Wood scraped against wood as they sat.

"A friend of my father's," Lawrence said, "is a Surdan ambassador. He needs a new personal aid." Kaldor's mouth dropped open. "He's willing to train you himself. You'll eat and stay with him. Kind of like Magnius for me, minus the protection part."

"An ambassador," Kaldor said breathlessly, "this is… incredible."

"He's just a family friend," Lawrence said with a happy, but nonchalant shrug, "As are you."

"You're just changing my world," Kaldor countered bluntly.

"No, I'm not," Lawrence said with a shake of his head, "I'm just changing your circumstances." Kaldor shook his head in disagreement, but Lawrence motioned for them to move on. A thought then occurred to the young Longshanks as he saw his friend's excitement continue. "There is a catch though."

"What?" Kaldor asked. Suspicion, absent before, rushed in. The tone held thinly veiled cynicism. It was too good to be true, right?

"You'd have to leave your grandmother in Magnius' care," Lawrence said cautiously. Kaldor's face again descended into a look of conflict, or so Lawrence thought. "This is a long-term arrangement. To clarify, Magnius would watch over her at my family's house. Again, Kaldor held that starstruck look. Lawrence paid it no mind, but Kaldor couldn't get that off his mind.

"Thank you," Kaldor said. Lawrence saw his friend's shoulder's sag, but it was different. Last time, his shoulder bore a mantel which seemed to crush him. Now, he rested. The body of his friend looked visibly relaxed. Kaldor bore that mantel no more.

"We leave in three days."

Later that same day, Lawrence stood in the foyer of his family's house. His mind was awhirl with plans and ideas. After flipping Kaldor's expectations, his friend inquired how his outreach would continue. While he'd bettered the environment in the slums, he'd yet to organize a whole system. The closest he'd come was visiting a list of houses with regular supplies when they had no food.

With a thud and click, Magnius closed the door behind them. He mentioned something about coffee and headed off toward the kitchen. Lawrence nodded absentmindedly and made for the stairs. He would pack and organize his belongings and thoughts.

"My son returns," crooned a voice from the loft, snatching Lawrence's attention. There, in her iconic yellow dress, stood Helen Longshanks. Years younger than her husband, she moved her golden-blond hair out of her eyes with stroke of her hand.

"Mother?" Lawrence said, confused, "You're home early." Lawrence marched quickly up the remaining stairs. He embraced his mother. The scarcity of remaining time added a layer to the simple gesture. Lawrence squeezed a little tighter.

"I'm glad to see you missed me so," she said with a jest.

"Well," Lawrence said, "I wasn't sure if you'd be home before I left…" He trailed off into silence, looking away. The former warmth had deserted the situation. After a moment of silence, Lawrence returned his gaze to his mother and saw hurt. His heart broke a little as her eyes became bleary.

"Call it a mother's intuition," she said softly. Jeod, who Lawrence failed to notice until then, laid his hands on his wife's shoulders. He wore his usual crimson doublet with matching slacks. In a tender gesture, he turned her around and let her lean against him. Lawrence stepped forward and completed the embrace. While his focus lay on his parents, the newest edition to the family pushed its head against Lawrence's leg.

The family split apart as Helen took a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Lawrence bent down and took his partner into his arms. The sight of this caused Helen to jump slightly at the unexpected entrance of her son's dragon. She took a breath and folded the handkerchief back into a pocket on her dress. The dragon rumbled in pleasure as its rider stroked underneath its snout.

"Has the erm-," Helen paused, "new addition to our family been named?" Lawrence smiled in gratitude for the word choice.

"I don't know its gender as of yet," Lawrence revealed, "but it likes the nickname fire-jewel." The new rider could feel his dragon's pleasure at the bond.

"A wonderful name," Helen commented, "for an unexpected surprise." Lawrence noted the slight crack in her voice at the end of the last comment. Seeing he slight furrowing of his brow, she assured, "I'm not… too upset. I am just trying to adjust to the idea of you leaving so suddenly. At least with your work in Tierm, you were within arms reach."

Lawrence remembered the conflict he'd had with his mother over his work in the slums. A point of contention between them, even between her and his father, only gaining protection from Magnius won her over.

"I sympathize with the shock you feel," Lawrence admitted, having not really gotten over it himself. In response to lingering anxiety, his dragon wrapped its tail around his arm. A wave of encouragement (and possessiveness) followed.

"Must you leave so soon though?" Helen protested.

"I'll be plenty safe," Lawrence assured her, "what's safer than the capital of the rider order, no?"

"It's not a matter of safety," Helen said bitterly, "it's a matter of distance." Her frustrations finally boiled over and she left in a huff. With heavy steps, Mrs. Longshanks retreated to her and her husband's bedroom. Lawrence followed her with his eyes and lingered when she had already gone out of sight. An audible clap reached his ears when she shut the door.

"Don't fret over you mother," Jeod admonished.

"I won't," Lawrence said, determinedly, "it can't be helped."

"Would you stay if you could?"

"I don't know. Can I?"

"I don't know. What is your goal now?" Lawrence thought about his circumstances. The quick departure had been arranged without his input. They merely followed procedure with the new rider. Three training centers were had: Vroengard, Illeria, and Du Weldenvarden. The island capital was the closest. Could he or should he fight to stay?

A vague memory, an impression really, drifted into Lawrence's mind. With it, a deep sense of determination spiked in his heart. He knew what his goal was: to help those in need. He mulled this over as his father waited for an answer.

"To help others," Lawrence looked down at his new companion, "a dragon is now indivisibly linked to this. I'll need to train as a rider if I want to do this effectively. I made a wager that I'd fight for this even as a rider."

"You do a lot of that," he father said candidly, "Your list is quite impressive too: me, your mother, thugs, and apparently an elf now."

"You make it sound like I enjoy conflict," Lawrence said with a cringe.

"You're certainly unafraid of it," Jeod continued, "You must learn a measure of temperance when it comes to your ideals, but I don't mean this to criticize. I say this to help you fight better." Lawrence ran is finger's along the scaled neck of his hatchling. Lifting his head, he smiled at his father's concern.

"Thank you," he said, stepping into a partial embrace.

The next two days passed quickly. Lawrence had spent the rest of the first evening with his father. They mulled over plans to continue the outreach while Lawrence was absent. His father agreed to continue funding it, but they didn't know who would run it. Surprisingly (or not), Magnius stepped up to this task as well. He would oversee the details and check the slums regularly. While thankful, Lawrence was curious as to why Magnius chose to do this. He said nothing better beckoned him.

He didn't see his mother until the next morning. Despite her frustration, she insisted on directing breakfast herself. The whole family and their guests ate well, even the servants. Lawrence then spent the rest of the day packing his belongings. His disconnect from his family's economic class extended here too. Well dressed, Lawrence had only the clothing he needed (or that his mother had compelled him to keep). He had a copy of the philosophy book Magnius gave him two years before. His other books found storage in his father's personal library.

The third day saw final arrangements carried out. Granny Dorah took up residence in Lawrence's former room. The rest of the day passed with Kaldor meeting Captain Baldwin. Lawrence spoke with the elf who informed him of the preparatory material he'd be doing on the voyage to start learning the ancient language. Both youths felt a growing excitement and nervousness as they turned in for the final eve.

"Lawrence?" Kaldor asked from his improvised straw mattress.

"Yeah," the rider responded.

"What do think Vroengard is like?"

Lawrence racked his mind for memories of history. Then, a passage came to mind…

_There lies the rider's jewel, Doru Araeba!_

_Captial of the island star, seat of their power._

_Greatest roost for the sky jewels, the dragons,_

_To its many spires, the wind carries them all._

"Where did you hear that?"

"I read it in a book once."

A pause.

"Captain Baldwin said he'd teach me to read."

"Glad to hear it," Lawrence said. He occasionally forgot the differences between he and his friend. He liked to believe all are equal. While he can treat all as such, life had other plans. Then again, Lawrence would fight, wouldn't he? "Hey, Kaldor, have you ever slept on a feather bed before?"

"No, why?" The rustling of sheets could be heard.

"We could switch?" With eyes adjusted to the darkness, Lawrence got out of the guest bed. He'd made sure to avoid waking his dragon asleep at the bed's end.

"Uh," Kaldor hesitated, "you sure? Your mom would be upset in the morning if she found you on the floor."

"I can handle her," Lawrence assured, a measure of doubt apparent in his voice. So, they switched. The hatchling stirred with an irritated _chirrup_ in the commotion.

"This bed is big," Kaldor exclaimed.

"My father had them built for two people in case we had excess guests."

"Why don't we share then?" Lawrence smiled at his friend's suggestion, so simple and profound. Equality and generosity. Why not indeed? With these thoughts easing his mind, he embraced the drowsy feeling emanating through the bond. The whole room slept a few minutes later.

The next morning flew by in a haze. Surrealism hung in the air. It felt like journey's end, a mountain's peak. Lawrence couldn't help the division in his heart whether this felt more like an end or a beginning. By noon, the ship sat ready in the harbor. The crew was gathered and luggage loaded. A small crowd now stood on the pier.

After a bleary eyed farewell to Granny Dorah, Kaldor boarded the ship with the rest of the Surdan entourage. Lawrence set his dragon down and embraced his parents one last time. Whatever differences they had, Lawrene felt not but love from his mother. Magnius stepped close to address him, but Granny Dorah grabbed his arm.

"You and Kaldor enjoy your vacation," she said cheerily. Lawrence just smiled and gave her a hug. "And thank you, you've made him so happy. I know that's something I can't do." Lawrence found himself a little bleary eyed at her comment. When the embrace ended, Lawrence felt a hand on his shoulder. Magnius pulled him away (his fire-jewel staying right by his leg) as Granny Dorah began to converse with the Longshanks couple.

"It's been a pleasure serving with you," Magnius began.

"We're not soldiers," Lawrence said with a half-hearted chuckle. This goodbye seemed the hardest.

"With the way you fight?" Magnius countered, arms on his hips and eyebrows raised in skepticism. "Besides, you should speak for yourself. My time as such though passed well before your time."

"You were a soldier?" Lawrence asked incredulously. Magnius raised his hand dismissively.

"Another time, I wanted to offer some advice. In the battles ahead, bend but do not break."

"What do you mean?"

"Learn to compromise without compromising who you are. In the years I've known you, I can't tell if your dedicated or just stubborn," Lawrence chuckled as he remembered his dad's words from a couple days ago. "I'm serious."

"I know," Lawrence said, "I laughed because you're the second person to tell me this."

"Then, you'd best take heed," Magnius said as he put his hands on both of Lawrence's shoulders. "I'd thought about offering you my sword, but I doubt you'd put it to any use. So, go with my support and blessing. This isn't the last time we'll work together. I'm sure of it." They embraced. Wiping a tear forming at his eye's edge, Lawrence stepped back.

"Time for me to head on board then," Lawrence said as they rejoined the rest of the group. As he looked towards the gangplank. The ship held a similar appearance to elven crafts he'd occasionally seen. Before he could board, a voice called to him.

"Lawrence Longshanks!" Mr. Haddock came hastily up the pier.

"Councilman Haddock?" Lawrence addressed politely but confused.

"Glad I could catch you before you heave off," he replied slightly winded.

"What can I do for you?"

"That's the question I was hoping you'd ask," Mr. Haddock took a breath, "I know your father and I have had our differences, but I want to ask if you'd watch over my daughter." Lawrence glanced at the Varden warriors still on the pier and visible on the ship's deck. "I meant to ask you to keep her company. This the first time she'll be away from home. Please?" Lawrence stood surprised at the sudden insistence of Mr. Haddock, but he quickly agreed. "Thank you," Mr. Haddock said. Then, seeing the surprised look on Jeod's face , Mr. Haddock stiffened, "You've a got a good son there, Joed."

"I know," his father responded. Lawrence blushed slightly at the attention. Then, the enigmatic elf who began Lawrence's new adventure came walking up the pier. Lawrence tilted his head in slight surprise. He'd assumed Lute and the elf both were both on board already. The eight-year old rider held the tall elf's left hand, and her opal-scaled hatchling sat atop the elf's should between them. Mr. Haddock lead the effort to exchange the formal greeting, but the elf dismissed the gesture with a wave. Then, the councilman shocked Lawrence with his next words.

"Vrael-elda, I am happy to see you keeping my daughter company," Lawrence's mouth hung open at the realization. His hatchling looked up in amusement. The conversation continued as he gaped. "And where did you spend the morning?"

"We said goodbye to mommy," Lute said meekly. Mr. Haddock breathed in sharply. His wife, a kind lady by all accounts, passed away five years ago due to a terrible illness. At the sound of the inhale, Lawrence put away his lingering surprise. "Daddy, do I have to leave so soon?"

"Princess," Mr. Haddock said on hitching breath, "I'll come visit you soon, but there's a friend I'd like you to meet." Lawrence instinctively stepped forward.

"Hey, Lute," Lawrence greeted. She shied away as he looked down at her. Kneeling to her level, he set down his dragon in front of him. "Do you remember me? We got chosen together." She nodded shyly. His dragon pitched in by drawing close to the little lady. She stretched out a hand and felt Lawrence's partner push its head against her palm. Her dragon gave an insistent _chirrup _as it jumped down and got Lute's attention.

"I like your dragon," Lute said timidly, "I'm glad I have my own." She then hugged her hatchling.

"How would you like to play with the dragons?" Lawrence said. Lute's eyes grew wide at the thought.

"Can we do hide and seek?!" Any grief disappeared from her eyes as her excitement grew.

"Sure," Lawrence assured her. With the matter settled for the moment, the last passengers and guards began to board. The last thing Lawrence heard before boarding was another _thank you_ whispered by Mr. Haddock.

* * *

_**Extended Author's Note:**_

_As it stands, I am a week late on updates. So, two chapters come this week with another next Wednesday. The story shall update each hump day. The month of Sun's Height (July) is over halfway through. I complete my twenty-first year upon the earth, and I prep for a several new writing projects. One is a fanfiction set in Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and the other will be an original work (potentially to be mentioned elsewhere). I hope the writing shows quality and the narrative compels the heart to think. Finally, if anyone would be interested in Beta-Reading, please send me a private message._


	5. Chapter 5: Vroengard

Chapter 5: Vroengard

Their week-long voyage drew to a close, and Lawrence found himself below deck on the hunt for dragons. 'Play the Lute' was the name of the game. They'd played it for four days consecutively. Find the dragons, then find Lute. Continuing his search, Lawrence adjusted the hem of his orange, short-sleeved tunic. The little Haddock kept Lawrence busy when he wasn't focused on his new studies.

"Garjzla," Lawrence whispered as he knelt. The area around him brightened. He glanced around the dim interior of the ship. This small cargo hold provided a favorite hiding spot for Lute and the dragons. Speaking of which, Lawrence shut his eyes and focused on the bond. He felt his partner. Less than two weeks old, his friend didn't have strong barriers despite the vastness of the infantile mind.

_Claws, hardening more each day, scraped idly against the smooth, worn wood. Lawrence felt the long sinews of his neck pull further away from the unnatural lighting of the room. He gave a growl of annoyance as he realized his sight had been manipulated. A giant reached down and moved a box. _

Lawrence felt the irritation continue to radiate off his growing dragon as he picked up the hatchling. While he could still carry the dragon, his fire-jewel had nearly doubled in size over the voyage. He hoisted his partner to his chest, cradling him with one arm. He felt the scaly armor of his dragon snag occasionally on his tunic. Lawrence sent a wave of gratitude and scratched a sweet spot on his partner's back. The rough scales tensed momentarily at Lawrence's touch. Rubbed right between the wings, his dragon rumbled in contentment under Lawrence's ministrations.

_Chirrup! _the dragon growled irritably when Lawrence stopped scratching.

"If you find Lute's Opal, then I'll continue," he bargained. The dragon then spread his wings and leaped from Lawrence's hands. Lawrence stumbled back when one of the membranes accidentally (or not so accidentally) whapped Lawrence in the face. "Point taken. Now find Opal."

With the feeling of a mental smirk, his fire-jewel darted off into another corner. The boat creaked as Lawrence stood there waiting. He couldn't wait for land. While he'd adjusted, seasickness had hit him the first day. Not even the elven craftsmanship of this boat could keep him from feeling a little ill. Given the profession of Lawrence's father, Kaldor had found it endlessly amusing.

Suddenly the light which Lawrence had been sustaining abruptly vanished. In the darkness, Lawrence heard a hatchling cry out in irritation. There was a clamoring, and Lawrence heard Lute giggle as a door flew open.

"Garjzla," Lawrence said again. He steadied himself as he felt the energy begin to strain him. He took a moment to find the dragons engaged in a wrestling match. Ending the spell, he watched with admiration as his young partner of heart and mind pinned the other miniature dragon down. "A fighter too, eh?"

_Chirrup! _His hatchling responded victoriously. He could feel a sense of accomplishment from the bond. A moment later, after the dragons had disentangled from one another, his fire-jewel demanded he keeps his side of the bargain. So, Lawrence hefted his hatchling into his left arm and began scratching anew.

Free but irritably subdued, Lute's Opal followed the pair with an indignant look. They left the room. It brought them into a hallway which held the crew and Varden cabins on either side. At the far end, the hallway gave way to a staircase. The sunlight pouring in from the top informed Lawrence of Lute's haste. It also meant the game would go on all afternoon as she could be anywhere on the ship.

"Hey," Lawrence said gently to the opal hatchling, "I'll give you the same scratches if you help me find your rider?" All he received was a head tilted inquisitively. So, Lawrence took a different route. In the short week, Vrael (Lawrence still unaccustomed to that fact) had introduced him to the fundamentals of magic. Already familiar with some ideas, Lawrence found himself enamored with the practice of it.

_Lute, _Lawrence thought, expanding his mind and brushing against his the young dragon's mind. The dragon tilted it head, but curiosity did not reverberate through the temporary connection. Lawrence continued to scratch his fire-jewel. Then, he sent the same sensation his partner felt toward the other dragon, repeating, _Find Lute._

There was an excited _chirrup, _and the little dragon scampered off to find its rider. Lawrence followed the bounding hatchling. The ever-present smell of salt-water greeted him as he ascended the staircase. It went half-way and reversed directions on the second-half of the ascent.

Sunlight forced the rider's eyes to become slits before adjusting. In the time between, the little dragon he'd been following slipped his view. The ocean's perpetual splashing reached his ears from overboard. With his eyes adjusted, Lawrence looked around. He saw neither Lute nor her opal partner. Instead, Kaldor greeted Lawrence across the deck. He stood arrayed in the royal yellow of the Surdan court. As the friends drew near to each other, Lawrence took in the change he saw in his friend. He held his head higher, prouder. Face to face, Lawrence stepped back as his friend yawned loudly.

"Good morning," Kaldor said warmly, "what had you up so early?"

"I was hunting dragons," Lawrence replied. Around them, the crew and Varden warrior tended to their duties on the ship.

"Of course, you were," Kaldor rolled his eyes, "While you get to play around, I find myself more tired than my old boss could ever make me."

"I don't play around all the time. Vrael has me spending six hours a day on learning the ancient language."

"Well, I do that for the common letters on top of my work," Kaldor grew somber, "We've actually not spoken much since the voyage's first day." Lawrence paused, unsure of how to respond. "Maybe Baldwin will let me accompany you today."

"He'd be open to it I'm sure."

"Yeah, but Azrud might not be." Lawrence shuddered when Kaldor mentioned the wizard. "Baldwin delegated my learning of letters to Azrud." Then, Kaldor's countenance brightened immediately, "It's not all bad though. He promised to teach me magic if I study hard."

"Glad to hear," Lawrence forced himself to say with a smile.

"Kaldor!" Both youths turned around at the call. Baldwin with Azrud approached from the direction of the ship's dragonhold. The quarters for people of importance hugged the front of the dragonhold.

"Yes, sir?" Kaldor said, straightening.

"Relax, lad," Captain Baldwin ordered mirthfully, "we're not in the military. I was just fetching you to discuss the day's schedule. We've a busy first day. Despite your grandma's words, this hasn't been and won't be a vacation." Kaldor nodded, shoulders sagging slightly.

"Captain Baldwin," Lawrence asked, taking the initiative, "I understand that Kaldor is now your personal aid, but might he be able to accompany me for part of the day?" Baldwin look conflicted. Lawrence began scratching the bumpy scales of his dragon once more.

"If I may," Azrud intervened, his voice silky and steely at the same time, "I don't think it wise to permit him to leave for the morning." Kaldor and Lawrence looked at one another despondently. "However, maybe this eve the young Longshanks can visit to show his friend other parts of the island he'd otherwise miss out on."

Kaldor and Lawrence both glanced at the mage with a measure of surprise. With that holding their attention, neither noticed the glare Lawrence's partner gave the mage. Later, Lawrence would recall the tendril of mistrust he felt through the bond. Still, he'd paid it no attention in the moment. Azrud smiled. His masked covered most of his face, but his mouth remained seen. Without another word, he simply walked away and left the trio to their devices.

"He has to finish organizing his reports," Captain Baldwin informed. The comment cut Lawrence's surprise and the situation's awkwardness. A new thought crept into the new rider's mind as he switched to scratch the bottom of his dragon's maw.

"Does Kaldor have your permission, then?" With an affirmation to his first question, Lawrence continued. "Also, I have yet to ask, but what prompted Surda to send an entire diplomatic troupe?" Baldwin grew dark at the question.

"Tensions between New Broddring and Surda flare once more," Lawrence bobbed his head mindlessly as he understood the captain's countenance. The last border war between the two kingdoms left Baldwin's family bereft of his two brothers and father. Nonetheless, he held no bitterness toward the heartland of the old empire. Surda had been the instigator. "I've the deepest love for my homeland, but madmen hold the king's ear. I pray providence permit reason to win."

"Do you hold to Magnius' religion?" Lawrence asked. The off-hand comment stoked his curiosity. His dragon _chirruped _in irritation when Lawrence lowered his right hands and set him down.

"Oh, lad, I don't know if I'd call it a religion," Baldwin responded, "I just hope all things work together for good."

"I can agree to that," Kaldor said, elbowing his friend's right rib.

"Lad, I've indulged you both long enough," Baldwin said cutting off further discussion, "if you want your friend free, we've got a storm of paperwork and meetings to weather this morning. Let's go Kaldor."

Lawrence let out a breath. With his hatchling in tow, he meandered over to the ship's railing. His boots lightly thumped the wood beneath him. A moment passed in pondering the day to come. Then, he glanced forward and saw the edge of land in the distance. As the ship grew closer he could see the different peninsulas which gave Vroengard its iconic star shape. After almost a half-hour, a grumpy Lute came storming towards Lawrence with all the wrath an eight-year-old could muster.

"You stink!" She declared folding her arms, "I've waited for-ev-er." Lawrence smiled, but Lute continued her complaint. "Plus, Opal keeps sending me this funny feeling and image of you scratching your friend."

"I win then?" Lawrence inquired with a grin. Lute's mouth shaped an O. She grrred and made to storm off, but then she walked back.

"This doesn't count!" she snapped, "Plus, Vrael and his dragon want us to come see them in their room." The last statement surprised Lawrence, but when he asked Lute what she meant. She looked embarrassed. "I'm not supposed to tell." Lawrence pressed, and Lute smiled. "I'm not going to tell you." After Lawrence huffed, the two riders and their dragons set out for their mutual tutor.

Lawrence thanked Vrael when the day began to slow. He'd kept their chaotic first day organized. Below deck for their arrival, the pair from Tierm received a verbal itinerary for the rest of their day. First, they arrived at a spectacle. At least, that what Lawrence felt when he stepped out from Vrael's cabin. The conversation had lasted longer than he thought.

Approaching quickly, Vroengaurd stood as a field of towers and domes encircled by marble. Only a mountain, Moraeta's Spire, interrupted the immaculate walls on the southern side. Accompanying the otherworldly city was the thunder of many wings. Dragons flew about and without the city as if a shattered rainbow hung over it. From his own dragon, Lawrence felt joy and excitement which would hardly be tempered throughout the day.

The spectacle climaxed when they pulled into the harbor at the city center. An inlet brought them to a lake around which the city radiated out to its walls. The leader of the riders, Brom Holcombsson, greeted their party and the Surdan entourage. Several dragons also accompanied them. Brom's Saphira reminded Lawrence of the blue southern waters he'd seen in a fairth. Among the company was a golden behemoth with a stump for a left-foreleg, but the young Longshanks hadn't learned the great dragon's name. The whole event made him feel small, so he straightened his back reflexively.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, _Rextugenos_," another elven rider had greeted amidst the vibrant welcome. Lawrence would learn the elf's name (Oromis) later, but he'd stiffened at the nickname. With a sigh of relief, the exchange didn't last long. The Surdan ambassadorial troupe disembarked. The new rider chuckled when he thought of how Kaldor must feel.

The attention moved quickly from the new and returning riders to the visiting Surdans. Thus, Lute, Lawrence, and their dragons marched with their tutor towards their living spaces. Given the unfamiliarity of the overwhelming situation, Lute had protested when having to separate from Lawrence. He'd never had siblings and wondered if this is what it was like. Lute had no siblings either, but she was seven. So, Vrael showed Lawrence his quarters first.

With a huff, Lawrence sat on his new bed. The mattress, softer than those at home, sagged slightly beneath his weight. He might've commented on the extravagance, but he had to remember where he dwelt. This detail seemed the least remarkable against the myriad of others. His partner of heart and mind enjoyed the new mattress, quickly dozing after making itself comfortable upon the bed. Lawrence glanced through a large window on his right. A fair view of Vroengard stretched out, but the stone bed in the adjacent room caught his eye. A glance at his dragon reminded the new rider how quickly sleeping arrangements would change.

A trunk arrived with his clothing, and Lawrence began to unpack. The wardrobe across from his bed stood fully stocked by the time he was done. He then discovered the wonders of magical, indoor plumbing behind a foldable, standing curtain in his room. Reclining peacefully, Lawrence sat at the desk right beside his bed. He skimmed his book, _Teachings of the Wise: Vol. 1..._

_Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their hard work. For if one of them falls, the other can help his partner up. But what will happen to the one who falls with no one to help him up?_

Pausing his reading, he glanced at his slumbering friend. Still ignorant of his dragon's gender, he'd simply known him as a friend from the start. The creature before him had stopped his plans as a stubborn donkey halts a cart.

His mind meandered on this tangent, and he mulled over his life goals. A knock on the door broke his reverie. He wrapped up his philosophizing with a reminder of nonviolence and service. Then, he opened the door to see an ebony-skinned woman in a shortened skirt. Oddly enough, she also wore gauntlets and a sword hung from a belt about her waist. He'd seen plenty of women bear a blade, but typically not wearing a skirt at the same time. They exchanged pleasantries, and Lawrence met Nasuada, a captain of the Varden.

"I appreciate it, but no," she said matter-of-factly when he offered her to come in, "I am merely visiting my newest trainee. I am responsible for teaching new riders basic swordplay and combat." Lawrence frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I've never wielded a sword in my life," Lawrence said, attempting some dissuasion.

"Not an issue."

"I'd rather not."

"A nobleman's son?" Nasuada guessed with a measure of scorn. Lawrence flared his nostrils like an angry dragon.

"I strive for non-violence," Lawrence said through gritted teeth. This caused the woman to laugh. The incredulity of a pacifist bonded to a dragon overwhelmed her composure. Said pacifist didn't share her sense of humor.

"Either way, _rider,_" she said emphatically, "You need to report to the Renvard Keep tomorrow for testing." With a stiff but polite farewell, a closing door ended the conversation. After it clicked shut, Lawrence let out a deep breath. He felt a tendril of concern eek across the bond from his drowsy partner, stirred by its rider's emotions.

Swallowing his anger, Lawrence returned to his bed and spoke assurance to his friend. He'd long avoided swordplay no matter how insistent Magnius or others had been. Not even through with his first day, and Lawrence already had an uphill battle. He remembered his first conversation with Vrael and doubted he'd find any support there. What then?

_Bend, but do not break._ The words danced out suddenly, stirred by thoughts of Magnius. He further recalled his father's advice. In silent reflection, he decided to bend. He couldn't believe he'd be doing this. After some time of settling in, Lawrence left with his dragon to seek out Kaldor. Another perspective might help pick him up because it felt like he'd fallen over.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_It is much to my shame to declare a regular day to post then fail to meet it. For this, I apologize. That being said, I intend to make good on regular updates beginning this Middas (Wednesday). That being said, I want to say thank you to the three readers I've garnered so far. The most recent visitor added a most insightful critique. So, it is my hope to provoke a dialogue through these AN's and the review function. This is not to demand more feedback or force anyone to feel like they must review. Minding this there is a request I'll leave toward the end of this note._

_1\. Is anything unclear about the material I've posted so far?_

_2\. Does anything feel weak or out-of-place?_

_3\. What do you guys think of the general concept?_

_4\. What do you guys think of the new story blurb?_

_I think I will also mention any new readers who leave a review on the prior chapter. Also, if my few readers are willing, Every five chapters I plan to list the readers who have stuck with the story. So, here is the first of that._

**_Thank you:_**

_Lari Magicfeather - my first reviewer_

_Sythe-Elda - I'm glad you enjoy the concept_

_Aelloblu - your keen insights were very helpful_


	6. Chapter 6: Unbending Blades

Chapter 6: Unbending Blades

Lawrence trudged up the beautiful street. An existential crisis followed him every begrudging step. On the eastern side of the city, Renvard Keep loomed in the distance. While surpassed in height by other buildings of import, none possessed its air of authority. Compliant, the young rider approached with bent posture.

The smooth, tiled streets of Vroengard passed under him with every step. His mind whirled chaotically with doubt and anxiety. He'd sought comfort and advice from his friend last night. He'd gotten what he asked for but not what he wanted. The sights of Vroengard alleviated his frustration, yet his friend's words troubled him.

Magnius enabled him to be a pacifist. Such was the short version of his friend's lecture. Without another to bear the sword for him, Lawrence questioned if he could long maintain his non-violent approach. He didn't doubt his own resolve. Yet, he wanted to live. He'd seen what almost a decade of service could change. What about a century or five? The thoughts staggered him. He wouldn't live to see it though if he died because he refused to fight.

_Chirrup! _His hatchling bugled, sending a wave of encouragement and confidence. Lawrence smiled, but his thoughts ran in a spiral. Circling again, not only would he miss out on opportunities to serve. His dragon would lack its rider. Instinctually, the thought chilled Lawrence. Regardless of the magic involved, the rider cherished his strong bond with his partner of heart and mind. He did not want to lose his soul or take that of his friend's. _Chirrup!_

"Thanks," Lawrence said, pausing to pick up his dragon. He quickly adjusted his grip when he felt hardened claws press against his skin. He'd not be able to call the dragon hatchling much longer. The image of the big stone slab outside his room flashed in his mind's eye.

The wind stilled as Lawrence approached the main gate of the fortress. Four broad towers stood connected by unnaturally thick walls. A sigh like the dead morning breeze left Lawrence's lips as he straightened his back. He'd face this as any other challenge. It would daunt him no longer.

The early hour buttressed the cool of the shade in the passage beneath the wall. Lawrence shuddered and felt goosebumps on his arms. Then, the sun greeted him anew, bathing his destination in morning brightness. The courtyard encompassed a swarm of warm bodies. Groups of Varden trained at different spots. Dwarves, elves, humans (and Lawrence thought he spied an Urgal) intermingled in the various groups. Despite the diversity and quantity, Nasuada emerged unmistakably from the incohesive mass. Not for her skin color or gender or age, no, she stood out for the authority and purpose in her stride.

Despite their differences, Lawrence felt a spark of respect for the sword-maiden. Her mannerisms spoke of indomitability. He guessed she held as tightly to her beliefs as he did to his. When she drew, close Lawrence stooped to set his friend down then met her steely gaze, shoulders squared. She stood before him in the scale-mail of the Varden.

"I have arrived as instructed," Lawrence stated flatly. She said nothing but nodded in the direction of a vacant training square. Moving in that direction, Lawrence's dragon leapt into the air, pumping his wings. An image flashed in the rider's mind of forests and soon-to-be-dead prey. He bid his airborne friend farewell.

"We begin with the sword," Nasuada said as she approached a weapon wrack. Upon it, blades of varying sizes hung. A second wrack next to it held a bow, some spears, and two staves. The rider frowned at the lot of them. Despite the obvious displeasure, Lawrence didn't protest when handed him an arming-sword. "Regardless of your inexperience, the blade looks comfortable in your hand."

Lawrence straightened his shoulders at the complement, one he'd rather do without. Nasuada began to demonstrate basic strokes with the sword. He mimiced them for about an hour. Horizontal and vertical cuts repeated consecutively. Basic blocking positions interrupted that flow. He should always parry with the flat of his blade she also instructed.

"Take a break and refresh yourself as best you can," Nasuada suggested. Lawrence readily handed her the sword. He took a seat on the pavement and rotated his sore shoulders. He listened as Nasuada spoke a spell. He noted the words she spoke and grimaced. The spell blunted the sharp edges of the weapons. He dreaded the intent behind the spell. "It is time to test how well you've learned."

"I've only been practicing a little over an hour!" Lawrence protested.

"Yes," Nasuada agreed, "but your strokes moved smoothly. You learn quick."

"And if I refuse?" Lawrence asked, raising his head and standing. Nasuada simply snorted derisively.

"You wouldn't have come if you were going to," Nasuada countered, "despite your obstinance yesterday, you readily came today and have taken to the skill, nascent as it is." The hard facts slapped Lawrence in the face. His heart plummeted. He'd given in so easily? Where was his fight?

"I…" Lawrence couldn't speak.

"…am ready to continue," Nasuada finished with insistent authority. She held the blade out. Lawrence slowly received it. "Ready yourself."

The rider assumed the guarded stance she'd shown him earlier, facing the armored woman. Without warning, Nasuada began a simple series of strikes, many repeats from earlier which drew out the blocks and parries Lawrence had been shown. His mind warred, but his body did not. Sufficiently focused, Lawrence repeated what he learned with fluidity.

"Ow," Lawrence muttered when he failed to block in time.

"You do well," Nasuada stated, "but you're not entirely focused. Come at me!" She took a more guarded stance. With a deep breath, Lawrence put away his inhibitions and ignored the tightening of his chest. He engaged. A low horizontal strike preceded a parallel blow at higher angle. Nasuada blocked both. He then dove with a downward slash. Nasuada parried and lunged.

In that moment, an instinct untapped before clicked inside Lawrence. He reflexively sidestepped. Nasuada momentarily lost her balance with a look of genuine surprise. An opening appeared, and Lawrence moved to strike. Then, he didn't. His conscious arose with a vengeance. Shame poured freely from his heart. Until Nasuada struck him hard on the chest.

"Argh!" Lawrence yelped when he landed on his rump. The impact jarred him and broke his reverie.

"I'm disappointed," Nasuada said flatly, "Your reflexes surprised me as much as your stupidity." Lawrence gazed at her with mixed emotions. "In a real fight, you would be dead and your dragon scarred irreparably. Is that what you want?" Her words up till' that point had only stirred up his confusion, but that last line stung deep. A tear welled in one of his eyes.

"I'm done," Lawrence said firmly, blinking away the potential tears. Nasuada demanded he stay, but Lawrence ignored her. His heart stood awash in emotion and threatened to show. She did not chase after him or yell. So, he left without another word.

An hour passed during the trek to the gardens and parks below Moraeta's Spire. Lawrence meandered beneath the magically strengthened vegetation. He could sense the curiosity of his friend growing stronger. The distance between them lessened, but he put up a barrier. What could he do? He'd walked out on his first day of training. No resolution to his overwhelming questions came forth. His heart wouldn't let him return either.

"Argh!" He shouted in frustration. Momentarily self-conscious, he glanced around. People off in the distance paid him no mind, so he breathed easily. The ongoing storm inside his heart erased the short reprieve. The internal focus lowered his mental barriers and his dragon's affection and encouragement came in like a battering ram. It didn't come alone though. Lawrence gaze skyward.

The sun lit his hatchling like a spark. Yet, beside his partner of heart and mind, The dragon from the day before descended. Like burnished silver or polished steel, the sheen from the dragon's scales made Lawrence look away. The hatchling and the silver dragon landed side by side. The uncanny resemblance struck Lawrence. The same horns sprouted out from the back of the silver dragons head. Similar spikes ran down its back.

Lawrence felt the dragon press on his consciousness and lowered his barriers. Warmth and welcome flowed. Images of his fire-jewel's hatching played in his mind. With them came a surreal sense of relieved anticipation.

_*Who are you?* _Lawrence asked silently.

"_Parakletos," _said a mental image of Magnius. Lawrence stared at the dragon inquisitively. Unspoken questions beyond a name were met with another flurry of images. Magnius upon the silver dragon's back. An orange dragoness around a fiery colored egg. The bonding of Lawrence and his dragon.

"His father," Lawrence said, less question and more a declaration, "You knew Magnius?" No images came this time, only one emotion: humor. Amidst this lively distraction, Lawrence's fire-jewel had examined his rider's memories and emotions. The dragons glanced at each other. Then, the silver dragon prodded further into Lawrence's mind. Timidly, Lawrence let the stranger (though family member would be more fitting) sift through some memories. The dragon dragged two memories vividly to the front of his mind's eye.

"_I will only ask one more question. Do you think you could hold such an ethic if you stood in a similar position?"_

"_May I never face-" Lawrence began reflexively. Yet, the pause he took allowed some small voice inside to answer, Yes. There had to be another way. "Yes… I could- I would do that!" Lawrence stood…_

Then:

"_...I wanted to offer some advice. In the battles ahead, bend but do not break." Magnius said._

"_What do you mean?" Lawrence asked._

"_Learn to compromise without compromising who you are…"_

The unexpected emotional support and memories stirred Lawrence's own resolve. He felt broken, but he'd never had to bend before. He sat down on the grass beside his partner of heart and mind. He sent gratitude to both parties, but an extra dose of affection reached his fire-jewel. The rider's mind buzzed as emotions roiled on. Though, his resolve had returned. Suddenly, the scent of fresh grass filled his nostrils. His friend had shoved its snout in the grass and opened the link wide. Lawrence laughed.

The large dragon in front of them gave a snort of satisfaction. Wings of silver unfolded with a shuffling sound. A great whoosh followed by repeated waves of air launched the dragon named Parakletos into the sunny heavens above. After he recovered from the unnatural wind, Lawrence noted the questions he had for Magnius in his first letter home. Filing those away for later, the young Longshanks rose. He'd better report to Vrael.

Later that evening, Lawrence approached the Seat of the Peoples. Here, representatives from each of the kingdoms and races could meet and negotiate. The large, palace-like complex had two domed areas with two connecting wings for housing the many staff and representatives.

"I'm here to visit Representative Baldwin," Lawrence said to the Varden warriors guarding the entrance. They knew him from his excursion with Kaldor the night before. Moreover, while under the command of the riders, the Varden also guarded this landmark of cooperation. He entered the vaulting reception area. The pillars and dome towered high above him with its elegantly carved architecture. Marble floors gave way to lavish carpeting when he entered the right wing.

The Surdan ambassadorial troupe had a cluster of apartments on the second floor. He waved to the Surdan guard who watched over the entrance. Ushered in, he saw Kaldor sitting and talking with Azrud in the mage's room. Seeing his friend occupied, Lawrence moved onto his real quarry. He stepped up and knocked on Baldwin's door. A click and slight creaking of the door brought the two face to face.

"Lawrence," he greeted warmly, "what brings you here, lad? Not that I mind seeing my best friend's son." The soft words were a balm to the rider's still troubled heart.

"I came for some advice," Lawrence informed him. He then related his brash actions from the sparring ring this morning. Vrael had been understandably put out. A tongue-lashing in the language of magic had followed. The memory of the rebuke felt written upon the young Longshanks' heart. "I am determined to resume my combat training, but I see no resolve to the tension. I feel broken."

"Aye, you are," agreed the ex-sailor, "You've done something you've never done before. You wielded a weapon, learning how to use it with _lethal_ intent." The emphasis on that word caused Lawrence's chest to tighten all over again. He sank onto one of the plush sofas inside Baldwin's personal quarters. Baldwin eyed the youth with sympathy. "Lad, do you know what happens to a blade if it's too stiff?"

"It breaks."

"Exactly. That has been you up to this point, stiff and unbending metal. You have snapped when faced with reality. Now, you're being reforged."

"What does that even mean?" Lawrence asked, "I am trying to compromise without compromising myself!"

"I don't feel like you've compromised yourself. I believe your being tempered, like a blade being formed. Your resolve and ideals are facing the weathering effects of reality. In the furnace, what you truly believe will take shape."

"Baldwin," Lawrene complained, "You were a sailor and soldier, not a swordsmith."

"My father was," Baldwin retorted, "just don't lose your resolve, lad. I've seen your determination. You'll figure it out."

Lawrence opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped. The memories from earlier played in his mind. The sofa creaked as he sat forward, pondering Baldwin's words. He grimaced at being compared to a sword. Said weapon brought him naught but trouble today. Amidst the displeasure and questions, Baldwin's admonition to keep going struck a deep note in the young Longshanks. The flame was lit. With the spark came inspiration.

"Thank you, Baldwin," Lawrence said, rising to leave. They bid each other farewell with a nod. He visited Kaldor and returned to his room an hour later. His dragon rested peacefully on his bed. Tonight would be one of the last they could share a bed. Vrael had told him the hatchling would be up to shoulder height before the end of the week. Leaving his friend at rest, Lawrence sat down at his desk.

He grabbed a quill and sheet of parchment which his room had been supplied with. The questions which stormed in his psyche funneled through his hand onto the letter he wrote. Who is Parakletos? Who am I? Any advice about not harming others with self-defense?

"Wait," Lawrence thought aloud. That was a novel thought. So, he kept writing. His fire-jewel sent an inquisitive tendril into its rider's mind. Lawrence responded with affection and gratitude. Trumping both emotions though, solid determination radiated across the bond.

_Chiiirrrrruppp. _His dragon sounded contentedly. Lawrence wrote late into the night until the peace and rest from his partner of heart and mind drew him to his bed.

* * *

_**Author's** **Note:**_

_So, I succeeded this week in a timely update. Sun's Height (July) closes with several writing goals met. I have begun to consistently update my fanfic. Other writing projects have begun as I re-immerse myself in the habit. Finally, I've narrowed my world-building efforts to prepare for an original work with the working title **Olivia, Queen of Wolves**._

_Also, Skreff, thank you for your review. This won't spoil anything, but I wanted to point back to something. The impact of Galbatorix's defeat will be explored, but why he fell I tried to explain in chapter one. Vrael originally hesitated to slay the young, deranged rider. In my timeline, he didn't. I do not remember exploring beyond that. Furthermore, I hope your interest in Lawrence's pacifism comes to a focus in this chapter._


	7. Chapter 7: Another Way

Chapter 7: Another Way

Two weeks had passed since he wrote the letter. A fortnight too since Lawrence had silently recommitted himself to his wager with Vrael. Fourteen days of sore muscles and a sore heart. Those same muscles lifted Lawrence's borrowed longsword. Bruises, healed the night before, decorated his arms and legs anew as he and Nasuada neared the end of his sparring match.

"You'll not strike your enemy dead if you keep lowering your blade," Nasuada chided. Her choice of words caused Lawrence's chest to subconsciously tighten. He breathed deeply as he buttressed his resolve. A wave of encouragement proceeded by a sharp _chirrup_ shored up what he could not.

"That's not my goal," Lawrence said firmly. He gripped the now familiar leather grip of his sword and reengaged with the offensive sequence Nasuada had taught him that week. While the wards placed on the weapons kept the edges sharp and the wielders safe, the sound of metal on metal rang out nonetheless.

"Very good," Nasuada prefaced, "but you've got to keep your strokes tighter." Then, she increased her speed and nearly knocked the blade from Lawrence's hands. A sword tip from the ebony skinned warrior ended their duel. "You've improved though. Now, for you third weapon."

"Third weapon?" Lawrence complained, "Swords and bows aren't enough?"

"It is procedure," Nasuada said flatly, "since the War of Separation between the human kingdoms, Riders have learned at least three weapons. Be happy, a member of the Varden has to become familiar with each of these." She gestured to the weapon rack on her last comment.

He eyed the same inventory. Knives. Swords. Spears. Axes. Almost all the weapons had an edge or point in some way. The rider internally derided his attempt to find a nonlethal weapon. The rack held only two exceptions to the word _sharp_: hammers and staves. Yet, both were intended for beating your enemy. Process of elimination lead Lawrence to slowly but firmly grab a staff. It seemed the least threatening, and it extended a hand and a half above his head. He breathed deep. It was another step on his road to finding another way.

"So, you want to specialize in polearms, then?" Nasuada asked, tilting her head appreciatively.

"No, only the staff," Lawrence stated firmly.

"The _quarterstaff_," Nasuada corrected, "is one of many polearms. Effective against swords and armor," She picked up her own quarterstaff and stood in what she named as center guard. Her hands gripped the middle and lower end of the staff. This put the rest out beyond the reach of a longsword. The idea clicked as Lawrence imitated what he saw.

"It's advantage is in the reach," he noted.

"Good," his mentor responded, "Now, regular strikes…" she continued with the basics she knew for another two hours. Lawrence lacked his normal discomfort and enjoyed the new material. Wood felt sturdy and reliable. With wood, people built things, and staves provided not only defense but support too.

In the short time, he committed to memory the motions of basic strikes and darts or whole-bodied lunges with the staff. He stood sweating in one of the tunics he brought from home. The damp fabric clung to his back as he leaned on his quarterstaff. The idea of napping wormed its way into the rider's mind, but he discarded the notion. More stuff still had to be done. Besides, he blamed his drowsiness on his partner of heart and mind. His month-old dragon fell asleep when he noted his rider's confidence grow and anxiety fade. The sentiment encouraged the young Longshanks. He was finding his way.

"I am proud of you," Nasuada said in her same matter-of-fact tone, "if you keep training like this, we should have no repeat of past problems. That was the first time I've seen you wield a weapon without second-guessing yourself."

"It doesn't quite feel like a weapon," Lawrence explained.

"Don't forget," Nasuada warned firmly, "that's exactly what it is."

"You're right," Lawrence initially acquiesced, "but it is different." Nasuada didn't continue the debate. She bid him keep at least one of the training weapons with him.

"It's just procedure," she said again. Lawrence readily accepted the smooth wooden quarterstaff. They bid each other farewell and split. As the clacking of Nasuada's armor faded, Lawrence walked his sore body over to his dragon. His partner stirred and raised its long sinuous neck. He drew close and shifted his weight onto his dragon's neck. Energy flowed into his weary limbs from his dragon.

"Thank you, boy," Lawrence said warmly. As he leaned back relaxing his body, he realized he'd called his dragon a male. Up to this point, he'd yet to see any indicators, so he'd stuck with the nickname fire-jewel. Any further speculation met an abrupt end.

"So, your dragon's a guy?" Kaldor asked, surprising a weary Lawrence.

"It's still a guess," Lawrence admitted, "I've yet to hear his voice." Kaldor looked in wonder at the dragon. "In my head." His friend's wonder increased.

"You say these things so casually," Kaldor commented with a shake of his head, "I still can't wrap my head around what my eyes see daily. Anyways, you've been summoned to the Seat of the Peoples."

"Aren't riders prohibited from entering?" Lawrence inquired. Formed after the civil wars through the century prior, the Seat of the People granted a sense of autonomy from the riders. Despite their role in keeping the peace, the nations felt as if the order oft overstepped their boundaries.

"They may attend to observe upon invitation," Kaldor said mechanically, "or at least that's what Azrud tells me. He's the one who invited you." This cause the rider to arch an eyebrow. "He wouldn't tell why, but he made it clear we should hurry. You'll come right?" The hopefulness in Kaldor's voice surprised Lawrence. They'd both kept busy over the past week and a half and hadn't exchanged a word. Hope wouldn't be deferred here though.

"Yes, but I can't promise haste," Lawrence said with a yawn, "I'm sore and tired. Plus, Fire-Jewel isn't big enough to really carry me yet."

Kaldor grimaced slightly. "It probably better if your dragon stays behind."

"Doesn't the central hall have a ceiling entrance for dragons?" young Longshanks asked as he stood. Fire-Jewel lowered its or rather his head and rested it atop Lawrence's head.

"Yes, but it would cause less of a scene, especially if the meeting has started before we return." Lawrence mulled over his friend's reasoning as he scratched the underside of his dragon's maw. He nodded glumly in agreement. With a flurry of memories, Lawrence communicated the request for Fire-Jewel to stay behind.

_Lawrence, _responded a reticent, but distinctly masculine voice. The rider stared at his dragon with a new sense of wonder. The dragon communicated agreement, but Lawrence sensed the note of displeasure. The whole situation only served to dampen the rider's mood further. Now, he wanted to stay behind even more. He'd been waiting for this moment.

A glance at Kaldor settled his resolve. His dragon would wait, but not long, for him. Still, his other friend could obviously use the company. A simple farewell split up the bonded pair and sent the two youths towards a storm—international politics.

Kaldor talked much of the way to the important building. At the start, Lawrence only half-listened. His mind truly hovered around his partner's who currently flew from the city to hunt. He struggled to pay attention, but his partner-of-heart-and-mind ended the issue.

_Fight. _It was not a suggestion, nor a command. It was a reminder. The second word his dragon had spoken to him came with deeper context. The memory of telling Kaldor about his dragon flitted through his mind. The emotions and determination to save a friendship eked out of that moment of frozen history. The rider hadn't realized how much he'd impressed on his soul's other half. A nod of determined agreement grounded Lawrence to conversation with his friend.

"Hey," Lawrence abruptly addressed his friend, "I am sorry. Can you repeat yourself?" Kaldor glanced at him as they continued their trek. Lawrence saw annoyance turn to warmth.

"It's fine," Kaldor assured him, "I've been rambling. My time with Baldwin has been overwhelming. It is hard for me to describe."

"I am glad you enjoy your new job," Lawrence said. They entered a great plaza and the twin domes of their destination rose in the distance. Around them, the air thrummed with the familiar beating of dragon wings. Occasionally, one would pass them on the wide road. Dragons and elves, men and dwarves—the diversity never lost its surrealism. Having shifted his gaze to their surroundings, the rider shifted his gaze back to his friend. He'd fallen quiet. Lawrence voiced the unspoken question hanging therein. "Something wrong? This is one of the first time you've been silent since we left."

"This is the first time we've spoken in over a week," Kaldor lamented just loud enough for Lawrence to hear, "My heart stands in conflict. My needs for sustenance are met, but my heart aches with deeper yearning." In Tierm, the pair had worked together on Lawrence's charitable ventures. The young Longshanks sought also to lighten Kaldor's load by watching over Granny Dorah. Thus, they saw each other almost every other day.

"How flowery," Lawrence commented wryly, enjoying Kaldor's astonished gaze, "That sounds like it came from a book."

"It might have," Kaldor admits reluctantly, "So what?"

"I am glad to see you growing," Lawrence says, "You'll be able to read any of the books in my father's library before long. You're literate, then?"

"I have to read slow, but Azrud's faithful tutoring has helped a lot."

"He seems to have taken an interest in you, right?" Lawrence asked.

"Yes," Kaldor confirms. They turn right, having trekked straight across the plaza, "He does most of my tutoring. I was kind of bummed about not being able to talk with Baldwin more though. Azrud says the Captain is too busy with the tension from other ambassadors." The rider kept his frequent visits to Baldwin to himself. The Captain always seemed to have time to chat with him.

"Speaking of your tutor," Lawrence prefaced, "he might be able to help us chat more, if your interested that is." Kaldor nodded eagerly. Their destination now appeared before them, about 9 meters ahead. "I remember he promised you some time ago to teach you magic. You've obviously been studying hard. We could use magic to stay in touch and chat more."

"Really? How?" Lawrence smiled at Kaldor's eager questions.

"By speaking with our minds. That is how my dragon and I communicate," Lawrence informed his friend, "He spoke his first word to me today." Kaldor's face lit up like some spoke the spell Garjzla. Before their conversation could continue, they stood at the palatial building's entrance. Two Varden warriors stood guard before the large wooden doors. Upon them, pictures recounted all that Alagaesia had endured over the last century. Lawrence could barely wrap his mind around the fact that nothing on the door had been carved. A group of skilled elves had sung this into being.

"We should take the back entrance," Kaldor suggested, "It is closer to the council chamber." So, they began to walk around the west wing. With a few more moments to themselves, Kaldor picked up the thread of conversation. The pair hammered out the basic details to remember for later. They approached the southern entrance and ended the conversation. The guards at this entrance (much less grand as it was) didn't even bat an eyelash, recognizing both young men. The hall before them circled around the large council room. Treading on soft carpet, they arrived at the council room entrance. The guards stopped them there.

"State your business," the guard said stiffly.

"I am Kaldor, aide to Baldwin. My companion here is come to observe the meeting by the invitation of Azrud of Surda," the guard nodded and moved to enter the room. Lawrence smiled at the confidence his friend now possessed. Then, the other guard stepped in front of them.

"No weapons allowed in the council chamber," he stated firmly, gesturing to the quarterstaff in the young rider's hand. Normally, young Longshanks would've gladly given up any weapon. Yet, he didn't like the idea of giving up the staff he carried.

"I've just come from training and lean on the staff for support," Lawrence explained, "Can I please hold on to it?" The guard looked ready to pry the staff from the rider's hand, but Nasuada's distant voice stalled the action.

"I can vouch for him," Nasuada called out from behind.

"Yes, Lady Nasuada," the guard acquiesced. His eyes though held a measure of reluctance. The rider and the swordwoman's eyes met only for a moment, but Lawrence saw the approval which lingered there. Him asking to hold onto a weapon? She approved. They entered subtly without more hassle, at least from the guards.

The doors opened into the council chamber. The sound echoed softly throughout the chamber, just enough to grab the room's attention. The talking which could be heard a moment before ceased as all eyes turned toward the source of the noise. Dwarves and elves sat at various seats. Urgal held one Humans filled the majority though. Yet, it was the representative of the wild dragons which caught Lawrence's eye. Parakletos sat on a large stone slab which divided the various booths.

"Who interrupts this council?!" bellowed an outraged man to their left.

"That would be my tardy aide," Baldwin replied evenly, "my associate had him run an errand, but it kept him."

"And the other?" another man asked.

"That would be Rider Longshanks," Azrud spoke in a chilling tone. All eyes shifted from the pair to the mage then back to the rider. Lawrence glanced around the room (he noted the booth dedicated to the Tierm Commonwealth). He hated attention, but his father's training and his inner sense of defiance made him straighten his back. "I invited him here as a guest observer. He is close to several members of our party and son of a councilman. Did you not invite guests as well, Ambassador Calem?"

"They are auxiliary members of my entourage!" replied Calem. He had been the first to demand an explanation when the pair had entered the room. The room erupted into a debate on the validity of the new guests, yet Parakletos decided the matter. The dragon's roar shook the air and silenced all parties. In the silence that followed, Lawrence made for the Surdan booth with Kaldor. The outspoken ambassador refused to let the matter rest, even after Parakletos gave a thunderous dictum.

"All guests should simply leave," insisted Ambassador Calem. He gestured for the three men he'd invited to rise and depart. The group made for the exit, but Lawrence and Kaldor stayed where they were. A moment later, chaos erupted.

The three men rushed toward the Surdan booth, drawing hidden daggers. A Varden warrior stepped into the room with his sword drawn a moment later. No time remained for the guard to act as the men drew near.

One fell dead when Azrud extended his hand, but he collapsed a moment later when one assailant threw his dagger at the mage. Azrud then landed on the floor with a dagger in his lower gut. The same opponent who downed the Surdan mage drew another dagger and wormed jogged Baldwin. Lawrence stood in the gap between them.

The moves he learned earlier came back to him, and he executed a dart with his quarterstaff. The man stumbled backward. Now, two assailants faced the young rider. Lawrence realized he was the only armed person in the room. The elves on the other side stood stunned by the outburst, and the guard was still too far away. The young Longshanks kept his staff in center guard floating between targets as he tried to keep them both at bay.

^CHOMP^ Kletos' maw closed down over one of the attackers. Lawrence took the opportunity to render the other one unconscious with a quick strike to the temple. The man staggered forward, and Lawrence moved to catch him, making sure to pry the dagger from the man's softened grip in the process.

_Lawrence? _Fire-Jewel's voice rang worriedly in Lawrence's mind. He focused on the link and let his dragon peruse his memories. The connection registered the growls which his dragon let loose some distance away. Lawrence could even feel the air beneath his dragon's wings as he changed his course. He focused on the sensation of flight to calm his heart which still raced from the sudden attack.

Suddenly, searing pain rent the peace of young Longshanks. His eyes burst open in agony and surprise. He glanced down at the sword tip which protruded from the left side of his upper chest. His tan tunic turned scarlet and clung to his dampening chest. The sight of his own blood unbalanced him. He yelled when the blade was yanked from him a minute later.

He didn't register the flash of silver as he fell, nor did he see the corpse of his attacker follow him to the floor a minute later. The shouting which pierced the formerly silent and shocked room seemed distant. Only one message, one word rang clear in his mind: the cry of his dragon.

_Lawrence?!_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Another week goes by and another chapter comes. I hope the spike of activity towards the chapters end heightened the pace. If not, then some heavy editing needs to be done. With that, I am thoroughly enjoying my time worldbuilding for this November. If anyone is interested, I might consider posting it on fictionpress. Does anyone here use that? Finally, I hope this chapter revealed another nugget about the geopolitical state of Alagaesia._


	8. Chapter 8: Consequences

Chapter 8: Consequences

_Lawrence?! _

The rider bearing this name bolted upright in his bed. His sudden movement startled the dragon and human keeping him company. His dream had ended in a flash of phantom pain, and his hand had reflexively gripped his left pectoral.

"_Lawrence?_" the human and dragon asked him simultaneously. A wave of comfort and concern and determination emanated from the dragon. The rider realized the dragon was his Fire-Jewel. The other youth in the room was his in a way too. They were friends. The young man's name was Kaldor. "Take a deep breath."

He followed the instruction from his friend, prodded on by his dragon. He felt his chest painlessly expand. Fresh air filled his lungs. His hand retracted from his chest. He awed at the immaculate skin. His mind flashed with images of blood and metal, but another presence roared in his mind and suppressed the traumatic images. He breathed deeply.

"Fire-Jewel… Kaldor…" Lawrence said as his heart finally began to slow, "What happened?"

_Lawrence felt tall and large. His vision sharpened every aspect in the council room. Before him, three humans lay dead or unconscious. Lawrence looked down at himself as a Varden warrior approached from behind. Traitor! Yet, it was too late. Lawrence had been pierced, and likely through the heart. He hurt the partner of his(?) son! _

_Rage suddenly burned all through Lawrence's large draconic(?) body. Like viper, he bent his long neck down and crushed the betrayer inside his fake scales. Blood and metal washed over his tongue. Shouting filled the room…_

"Fire-Jewel," Lawrence said breathlessly. He clutched his chest again. Apology flowed through their bond. It took young Longshanks a moment to calm back down and assure his partner. He also realized the memory came from his partner's sire. It then occurred to him that Kaldor was speaking. "Sorry, Kaldor can you start over."

"You fully there?" Kaldor asked, concerned impatience tinting his voice. Lawrence nodded. Kaldor summarized the attack, trying not to trigger another panic in his friend. The rest of the narrative revolved around the 24 hours since the attack.

The council had separated with the ambassadorial entourage from New Broddring under house arrest. Azrud had killed the last culprit alive out of vengeance and anger. Vrael rebuked the mage for that, so the Surdan wizard elected to lock himself in his room. Vrael and a small team of proficient healers had ministered to Lawrence. They managed to undo all the damaged, physically that is. Lawrence felt the memories unnerve him at the edge of his mind. Fire-Jewel did his best to suppress that part of his rider's mind.

"Despite their best attempts," Kaldor said with astonishment, "You should've been dead before they reached you. Yet, you must be the luckiest person alive. The heart inside you beats in the wrong place."

Lawrence put his left hand to the right-side of his chest. A deep breath let him feel the _da-thump, da-thump, da-thump _of his heart beating. He'd heard of the condition in which the heart developed in the opposite side of the chest. Yet, the grateful rider didn't think on medical mysteries. His mind wandered back to the idea of Providence which Magnius clung to. He offered his first genuine prayer of thanks.

"Since you awake and steady, I need to inform rider Vrael and Captain Balwin," Kaldor informed his friend. With a brief farewell, his friend departed. Lawrence sat in silence after the door clicked shut. His mind whirled with questions and experiences. Fire-Jewel extended the tendrils of his own mind further into his rider's.

Lawrence welcomed the soulful embrace. All barriers between he and his dragon fell and their minds merged. They felt the claws on the stone bed beneath their hardened scales. Cool floors met their feet as their bodies drew closer together. They lifted their left wing to envelop the human extension in a canopy of orange. In silence and stillness they waited and rested.

It was at least an hour before Baldwin and Vrael arrived with mixed expressions of grief and relief. The new arrivals entered the room and made for the stone bed. Both completely conscious, the rider and dragon disentangled their bodies and minds to focus on their guests. The time resting with his dragon had stabilized Lawrence further, so he gave the formal greeting to them.

"Bah," Captain Baldwin dismissed with a wave of his hand, "there's no need for formalities with what you went through yesterday." Vrael's expressed agreement but returned the greeting in kind. The first part of the conversation quickly turned to Lawrence sharing moments of panic he'd experienced upon waking. "I'm sorry you went through this lad."

"You shouldn't have been there in the first place," Vrael commented. His tone held no sense of discipline or disapproval. To the contrary, it held a tone of speculation. "What brought you there?"

"Kaldor invited me," Lawrence said, quickly adding, "or extended an invitation from Azrud. Is he well?" The room fell silent while his elders digested that information. Lawrence lay back against the side of his dragon. The hard scales didn't irritate him when he sat still and didn't move around. The heat radiating from his partner warmed his heart as much as his skin.

"He is well," Vrael finally said, "he said he invited you because Kaldor expressed dissatisfaction at your unavailability. This and his other actions have caused no small amount of chaos for us."

"My friend shared those feelings when we walked to the meeting yesterday," Lawrence concurred. Vrael bobbed his head in acknowledgement. His expression still read skepticism. Young Longshanks breathed deeply as he pondered the enigmatic mage. He'd helped defend the Surdan entourage during the attack, and Lawrence felt little reason to distrust the magnanimity towards Kaldor.

The memory of their first encounter squirmed it way to the front of his mind. It unsettled his dragon, but he dismissed it outright. First impressions oft proved unreliable. Evidence too pointed to the contrary.

"Did you have any other questions, lad?" Baldwin asked as the conversation lulled. Vrael had said Lawrence was free for today to finish recovering. Tomorrow, training resumed since his body was fully healed. Knowing he had extra time, Lawrence mulled over his options. He had letters to read and write, but an idea tugged at the edge of his consciousness. He followed the hare-like thought on its trail.

All he had learned of the past 24-hours whirled in his mind. He felt the presence of his Fire-Jewel as the dragon silently spoke his name: _Lawrence. _The word carried affection and encouragement. The rider clawed a little deeper into the idea and pried out a name stuck from his consciousness: _Ambassador Calem._

"How is Ambassador Calem?" the question startled both Baldwin and Vrael. Lawrence held a firm look as their surprise faded. "Can I see him?"

"Lad," Baldwin said with a near-hysterical chuckle, "you surpass me if your thinking what I assume you are."

"He is to be recalled," Vrael said matter-of-factly, "He knew about the possibility of this attack but kept it quiet. However," Vrael said with an indulgent tone, "I don't think he will deny an audience with one he let get hurt." Lawrence nodded in thanks. His gaze trailed off as he mulled over his idea. He subconsciously rubbed the forepaw of his dragon. Fire-Jewel craned his sinuous neck over, resting it against his rider's chest. Little conversation followed before Vrael and Baldwin departed.

During their absence, Lawrence took the time to read the stack of letters on his desk. His mother and father sent their love. Only a passing comment toward the end of their joint letter gave Lawrence pause. His father mentioned trouble with some of his vessels that Magnius decided to investigate personally.

He opened the letter from Magnius with a hint of excitement. Answers to his questions or updates on the projects he left behind, the update would be most welcome…

_~Rextugenos_

_Warm greetings to you. Your letter showed the strain bending had had on you. Frankly, privilege withheld this experience from reaching you sooner. Kaldor was right. You rarely had to face the consequences of your pacifism. City guards. Vrael. myself. Others have always protected you. Now, you must learn to protect yourself. _

_Before any protests arise, this doesn't mean you must intend harm for others. There are methods of self-defense which minimize or forego physically harming others. I have no specific recommendations. You should have more than one option though. The greatest of Alagaesia's libraries lay within your reach. Use them! Fight to not fight! You will need to take up arms (of this I am persuaded), but this doesn't need to harm (at least not greatly) others. Look to magic too as an alternative if you can. _

_On the matters of charity: Granny Dorah has acclimated well to her new living arrangements. While not without issue, she reads much and wanders less, having access to your father's library. She misses you and Kaldor and wonders when you'll be back from your 'vacation.' The other families you helped send their regards and continued thanks. Your father has seen to it that I have the supplies necessary to sustain the households you formerly looked after. Since the day you met Vrael-elda, the city guard too has stood vigilant in formerly neglected parts of the city._

_Finally, Providence moves me to tell you of ill news against your father's wishes. Trouble materialized the very day you left. A man washed ashore with horrible burns. He lived to tell a harrowing tale of dragon fire at sea, the first of several attacks. Purportedly by the same culprit, the riders here and in the surrounding areas found no trace. Sadly, some have blamed a group of wild dragons a day's voyage south of the city. The most extreme voice calls for retaliation. The nascent tension here disconcerted me, so I will look into it when I can. Do with this information what you will. I tell you this as a friend and one who expects a future rider to do what he can to keep the peace._

_Your friend and supporter,_

_Magnius Quilldragon~_

The young Longshanks lowered the letter and noticed the scaled head of his friend poking through the door frame. He'd been so engrossed in the letter that he'd completely ignored the concern which emanated across their bond. Lawrence carried the letter with him, gnawing on its content. Again, he followed his dragon to the large stone bed. They returned to their earlier resting position.

Beneath an orange canopy, he scanned the letter again. A mental list formed of to-do's: update Kaldor about home, focus on magic practice, visit the library of Vroengard, etc. Filing the list away, he sat on the ill news. It brought him back to the present situation. The tension between Surda and New Broddring had erupted. Tierm now faced mounting preassure to choose a faction. He grew queasy stewing about the issues.

_Lawrence, _Fire-Jewel said. The name carried affection, determination, and remembrance. _Fight. Peace._

_How? _He inquired silently. The steely determination he'd possessed earlier to see ambassador Calem cropped up once more. His dragon's response guided his eyes to the last line in Magnius' letter: _~a rider who does what he can to keep the peace.~ _He chewed on the idea a while longer. Some thinking yielded a clearer goal in mind for the approaching visit as someone knocked on his door.

Lawrence had greeted his three visitors politely. Calem's presence made the situation more formal than their earlier meeting. The ambassador from New Broddring took the desk-chair Lawrence offered. The young rider sat on his bed. Baldwin and Vrael elected to stand a way off, not wanting to intimidate the already nervous Calem.

"I am glad to see you recovered, honorable Longshanks," Calem said with a forced smile.

"Thank you, ambassador," Lawrence said with practiced repose, "I wanted to see how you are?" The question caught the official off-guard. The man pursed his lips as he tried to decipher the question. "Ambassador Calem, I ask with all sincerity. While I am still recovering from the shock of what happened, I am truly asking about your welfare."

"I… I regret not taking action," Calem admitted with a sigh, "I could've kept you from injury, and those foolish men would still be alive." The last part visibly saddened Calem's countenance.

"Did you know any of them well?"

"The one you subdued was my younger brother," Calem's voice cracked a little at the revelation, "I'd been relieved he'd at least been left alive before the mage lashed out."

"I am sorry," Lawrence empathized, "I did what I could to disarm him without hurting him." Again, the ambassador sat speechless at what he heard. "What path lies before you now?"

"I am to be recalled," Calem said with a faraway look, "I apologize, but why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care?"

"A friend told me a rider does what he can to keep the peace," Lawrence said, "this expectation and personal conviction drives me to make the best of an unfortunate situation. I believe that peace will come easiest and endure longest if people help others, even those they're in conflict with." The rider saw the light of understanding shine in the ambassador's eyes. "Will you help me with this?"

"Yes," ambassador Calem said with fervor, "I will do all I can. I won't hold this appointment much longer considering my part in the tragic events yesterday, but I will do all I can."

Conversation died shortly after the firm promise. Baldwin and Calem left to begin pursuing that promise in the short time they'd have left together. Vrael lingered in the room until the dignitaries had left. He smiled at the young rider.

"Well done," the elf complimented, "you're making good on our wager."

"I intend to," Lawrence said firmly, "oh, and do you think I might focus a little more on learning magic?"

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_This update was published way too late in the night. Still, here it is. I am now over half-way through the narrative and enjoying the current leg of my journey as a writer. Every Middas (Wednesday), I enjoy chatting with other aspiring writers over a glass of wine as I work on these weekly updates. With the start of a 4-day weekend, I help a family member move and shift my gaze to other writing projects. I hope you all enjoyed this week's chapter._


	9. Chapter 9: Dragon and Rider

Chapter 9: Dragon and Rider

He was a rider dedicated to keeping the peace. Lawrence held that goal before him, resting in his room. A month had passed. Ambassador Calem bid his final farewell a week after the disturbance at the Seat of the People. The budding rider found his new partner in peace a balm to his soul. Letters from his family, and Magnius in particular, weighed on his heart. The dragon attacks had continued, and the riders could do nothing. They acted as liaisons with the nearby wild dragon clan to investigate. Yet, the fruitlessness of their search and inquiry brewed resentment and distrust. So, the thought both Surda and New Broddring held men dedicated to peace buttressed his hopes.

Since his grand gesture toward peace, Lawrence had done little to shore up his tattered ideals. Captain Baldwin and Kaldor provided what counsel they could. None though could answer his questions. Where did he stand? He used to dismiss any kind of resistance, but he'd come a long way since then. Young Longshanks practiced archery and swordplay daily as required. Furthermore, he took to the staff with joy.

_The staff is for nonviolent self-defense, _he reminded himself as he sat upon the bed. He ran his hand along the soft linen of the blanket beneath him. In his lap sat an open book. He had visited several libraries in the grand city. His search yielded several manuals about unarmed and defensive combat. Most of them looked non-lethal. The varied options eased his mind as he could pick and choose. This was area where Nasuada was more than willing to help him.

On each page, sketches of elves engaged in unarmed combat demonstrated different techniques. One image showed a female elf strangling a man who'd attacked her. He eyed the sequence with keen interest. "Strangling" may have been too strong a word. She'd encompassed the man's neck in her arm. The next picture showed him limp on the floor at her feet. His eyes hung on one line in the descriptive text beside the images: …_rendering your opponent unconscious, requiring little physical strength. _

He liked the idea of not hurting someone. If he had to fight, he should cause as little pain as possible. A sigh escaped his lips. Despite his hopes, he could only cast simple spells. He'd poured over text after text in the ancient language, trying to increase his proficiency. Yet, what he had in knowledge he lacked in capability. So, martial combat stood as his best bet of effectively defending himself and others. Cause a little pain to prevent greater hurt, or so he told himself. He thought back on that day's training session.

He'd arrived at Renvard Keep for his daily regimen. There, Kaldor waited at the usual training spot.

"Afternoon, Kaldor," the rider greeted, "Ready to begin?"

"Can you repeat the parry you showed me last week?" his friend inquired. For the past two weeks, Kaldor had joined Lawrence in his training. Baldwin pulled some strings to arrange this. The Varden had been more than accommodating, since they failed to prevent the attack that nearly cost him his life.

"Sure," Lawrence said. He had Kaldor demonstrate the basic sequence he'd learned himself a little over a month ago. He had to bite back the continued distaste he felt when handling a sword. His emphasis and aptitude for a blossoming defensive style eased that burden. When Kaldor neared the end of the sequence, Lawrence did a quick parry knocking back Kaldor's horizontal slash. Lawrence's arm felt the jolt of the blocked hit. The first time he'd parried it jarred him, but he'd acclimated to the sensation. So, he instinctively thrust forward with his palm and the hilt of his sword.

His sparring partner fell back to the ground with an audible "uhf." Lawrence apologized after a few moments passed and quickly offered his hand. He helped his friend up as his inner pacifist cringed. Kaldor prodded that very part of him when commenting on how Lawrence had changed.

"I still find it hard to accept it," his tone turned to mock incredulity, "you not only practice combat, but you've embraced it."

"You share the blame," Lawrence countered, "telling me that I was entitled to my ideals. Your words cornered me."

"It just means they're true," Kaldor chuckled.

"So, this is my response," Lawrence's tone grew coy, "I can just knock all my opponent's on their rear and disarm them." Kaldor scowled, but the rider laughed. The jubilee ended when Nasuada arrived. She quickly began running them through their respective regimens. Lawrence happily set aside the blade he used each day for the staff he kept with him. The Varden had seen fit to gift him the staff as his personal weapon after the attack.

By the end of the training session, the orange tunic and brown slacks Lawrence wore clung to him, drenched in sweat. Kaldor wore Surdan yellow and looked as sweaty and worn out as his friend. Nasuada promptly bid them farewell after her final critique.

"She's a mountain," Kaldor said through quick breaths, "unmovable." Lawrence smiled at his friend's conspicuous admiration for the ebony swordsmaiden. The smile lasted only a moment before he gasped. His mind sharpened suddenly, and his vision swirled. Instead of seeing his friend. He saw Kaldor and himself in acute detail. He always kept an open link to his fire-jewel. The dragon in question liked to "snatch" his rider's mind at random times.

Dragon and rider simultaneously heard the beating of dragons wings draw close to the ground through the Lawrence's ears. Without prompting, the rider jumped, attempting to embrace his dragon around the neck. Over the past month, the dragon's shoulders had gone over Lawrence's head. He had grown six inches broader as well. Lawrence's fire-jewel lowered his neck to embrace his rider. Kaldor's admiration brought Lawrence back to the circumstances he'd been snatched from.

"Speaking of mountains," Lawrence said, grabbing Kaldor's attention, "Fire-Jewel finally decided on a proper name." Kaldor raised an eyebrow as he finally sheathed the sword he'd left lying on the ground after the last round of sparring. "Edoc'sil. It means 'unconquerable' in the ancient language."

"Why that name?" Kaldor inquired, looking reverently at the dragon once more.

_It is a promise to my rider. _The dragon's steely voice sounded in the minds of both humans. Kaldor's mouth dropped open, a regular sight. Lawrence had taken time to practice his telepathy with Kaldor to stay in contact throughout the past busy month. Edoc'sil only joined in occasionally. The ambassadorial aide still hadn't gotten over his initial awe at what he considered a privilege..

_I'm honored, _Kaldor thought, not for the first time, in his mind. He'd yet to manage extending his own mind, but when they established a link together, he'd could manage well enough.

_You're a friend, _Lawrence corrected, sending his sense of exasperation through the temporary link. Edoc'sil emanated agreement, and Kaldor could only smile.

_We will have to speak more at a later time, _Edoc'sil informed the humans before him, _My sire wishes to complete one more lesson, and my rider and I have business to attend to this evening. _Craning his neck, the dragon drew the attention of both youths to the simple leather saddle rigged around his forelegs and wings. Lawrence swallowed in nervousness. Kaldor inhaled audibly.

The sudden reminder of their impending first flight made Lawrence's heart skip a beat. Brought back to his room in the present, Lawrence mulled over the impending flight. Since he hatched, Edoc'sil had become an ever more cherished friend. While others tried to reason with Lawrence's existential questions, his dragon fought beside him. He never let him give up and always lent his rider the strength of one who understood—a dragon who understood. He truly came to appreciate his privilege of being chosen as a rider.

Then, as if summoned by the memory, Lawrence felt his bonded partner draw near. Anticipation quickly swallowed young Longshanks.

_Why so nervous? _Fire-Jewel asked his rider. The sender of the message appeared a moment later in a rush of wind. The air wound through the open screens between the sections of the room. He heard the pages of his book rustle as lost his line. So, he closed the fighting manual. Lawrence then rose and quickly laced up his boots. Stepping into the other room, his dragon lowered his snout to rest it rest on the young man's chest. Lawrence embraced his friend's head. _You were so eager yesterday._

_I am still excited,_ the rider affirmed, letting go of his friend, _it's just my first time flying._

_A first for me too, _Edoc'sil agreed. The dragon's excitement and pleasure radiated through the bond as he audibly rumbled it. He stuck out a foreleg, making the crook of his arm a stepping stool for his human. _Come, let us fly!_

Lawrence shifted in the simple saddle beneath him a minute later. He'd been in this position before, occasionally riding Edoc'sil during an evening stroll. That's when Edoc'sil had taken time to expand his vocabulary. The dragon had devoured all the information he could to strengthen his language skills. Lawrence remembered the first time Edoc'sil melded their minds while reading. He even fused their understanding.

Mimicking the same tactic. Lawrence opened his mind wide to his dragon. Their individuality became hazy. All nervousness from the rider merged with the excitement of the dragon. Only the tension in the extremities of a dragon prepped for flight remained.

Wings unfurled. The pair edged close to the precipice and jumped. The leathery membranes caught the air and hoisted the pair aloft. The rider gasped, but no anxiety separated from the unwinding tension. The build-up within them both dissipated with each wingbeat. Higher and higher they went, caught up in their sense of union and rapture.

The wind held them up as they glided dozens yards above Vroengard's expanse of domes and spires, wide roads crisscrossing between them. The afternoon sun set the dragon's scales ablaze like a fiery topaz. They basked in the warmth it brought them. Memories flashed through the joined mindscape. Shared images lit up their mind, and like a jewel, the different perspectives shaped their understanding with multiple facets.

Lawrence saw himself in a dark confined space waiting for the _one. _Blurs followed as the fog of infancy clouded the experience. Then, light shattered the darkness as he sought the one. More and more images followed. Life flashed before his sharp draconic eyes. Learning how to fly. His first hunt on Vroengard. His first word (_Lawrence_). Fear and pain shot through him as he saw his rider fall by the sword. Relief flooded him when elves brought their healing magics to bear. Now, he was with his partner in flight.

Edoc'sil Fire-Jewel stood anxiously on a platform. He would fight for his dreams—peace, justice, and equality! A fire-orange egg rocked back and forth. All anxiety deserted him. This was the _one._ His companion through all the fights to come. They'd get stronger together. Life flashed before his hazy human eyes. He drew Kaldor close, so his friend wouldn't be alone. Anxiety and disgust rocked him as he first wielded a weapon. What about all his ideals, his dreams? What did he stand for? He was unsure, but his _one _was there. They would fight. Through pain and blood and daily regimens, they would get stronger and fight together. They were doing that already. Here he was with his partner in flight, stronger than before.

_They knew each other and were known by each other. Together they reached beyond their own eyes, deeper into reality, stronger for the fight._

Their flight took up most of the afternoon. Only when the strain of prolonged flying began to wear down the melding of their minds did they land. The descent felt nice. Lawrence pressed himself against his dragon's neck. This left plenty of head space when Edoc'sil flew up into their room. They disentangled their minds when Lawrence dismounted after landing. Both felt tired. The morning had been spent with academic and magical pursuits with sparring following after. Parakletos had taken to training his son. That and the long flight with Lawrence as an extra burden made Edoc'sil's muscles ache.

_You're no burden, _the dragon chided, reading his rider's thoughts. Lawrence smiled. While their minds remained disentangled, they lay together on the stone bed. The greater their discrepancy in size, the more comfortable Lawrence found his dragon's smooth under-scales. As he lay against his partner of heart and mind, the afterglow of their first flight washed over them both.

_If the people could understand each other like dragons and riders, _Lawrence pondered, _then there would be peace. _

_No, _Edoc'sil rebutted, _if people cared for one another, then there would be peace. Understanding helps, but caring actually moves others. _Lawrence merely smiled and lay back. He felt his lungs empty as he exhaled deeply, feeling at rest. Providence or no providence, he felt like he could help others more now because of his dragon. Maybe Magnius was right. Edoc'sil concurred with that reasoning as he brought Kaldor to their minds.

Their first flight had been the deepest they'd connected yet. Reliving each other's lives (albeit, an abridged version) harmonized the goals, like the hatching all over again. They would _fight together. _Thus, Edoc'sil shared his rider's concern for the Tierm-youth now working with Baldwin. Taking initiative in this shared caring for Kaldor, Edoc'sil made an astounding offer.

_How about I offer Kaldor first chance at my second flight with a rider? _Lawrence mulled over his dragon's words. A note of jealousy and possessiveness cropped up heretofore unfelt by the young Longshanks. With a wave of dismissal and a nod of agreement, the pair set their course.

_You have no problems with this? _Lawrence asked meekly.

_You are mine, _Edoc'sil said with a resolute huff. The warm breath of his dragon blew some of his hair around. _Your friends are my friends._

_Kaldor's going to love this._

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_So, I come to my ninth chapter. I appreciate the feedback I have received, but I am crestfallen a short measure when I see that I've not had another review in almost 3+ chapters. This doesn't diminish my resolve to post as I am enjoying the fact I have a finished draft to edit before my weekly update. Refining brings a different joy than out right creating. That being said, I continue with my weekly update. Now, I must away for I have work at 5 a.m. tomorrow._


	10. Chapter 10: For a Friend

Chapter 10: For a Friend

Kaldor wouldn't get the second flight. He would be the second person to ride Edoc'sil though. The pair amended the previous conclusion when they had been granted a break for lunch. Edoc'sil took a break from his usual hunting and ate some meat one of the many kitchens in the city had provided. When they'd finished their meal, Lawrence mounted his dragon and headed for the Varden fortress.

The air felt as good as it had yesterday during their first flight. When they began their descent, circling slowly over the battlements, Lawrence scanned for his friend. He only saw Nasuada standing impatiently upon the smooth stone courtyard.

"All the better you can actually ride now," she said sternly, "but don't make me wait like this." Lawrence flinched at her tone and nodded. "Now, where's Kaldor?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Lawrence admitted, "Let me search for him a minute."

"Make it quick," was all she said before Lawrence zoned out. While he hadn't excelled in other areas of magic, he'd proved to have a strong mind. The rider extended his consciousness out as far as it would go. He gingerly avoided the multitude he sensed and sought for the familiarity of Kaldor's consciousness. He felt nothing. "Something wrong?"

"I can't find him," Lawrence responded.

"I've more to do today because New Broddring's new representative is almost here. If he's playing hide and seek, then we can't wait for him." Lawrence reluctantly bobbed his head in agreement. His reluctance and confusion made his practice a bit more painful and earned Nasuada's ire. "Focus!" She oft snapped. Whatever responsibilities she bore today, Lawrence could tell they weighed heavily on her.

When practice finished, Edoc'sil descended once again to retrieve his rider. Lawrence leaned on his staff as Nasuada curtly reminded him of his weak spots and charged him to find Kaldor. She wanted her charges both present and _focused._ She ground her teeth in frustration on that last point.

_Ebonskin has not surfaced yet? _Edoc'sil inquired. Lawrence shook his head. _Then, let me help you look again._

_Let's check at the Seat of the Peoples as well, _Lawrence recommended. Quickly he mounted, and they alighted from the ground. As they flew, they merged and extended their consciousness. Still, they found no trace of their friend. A while later, they touched down in front of the Seat of the Peoples.

Lawrence felt the hard ground when he slipped, dismounting. He landed abruptly on his feet. Resting his hand on his lower back a moment, the rider walked up to the Varden warriors guarding the entrance. While security had been doubled, it proved no challenge for Lawrence. He was let through to the Surdan wing, even accompanied by a guard. Edoc'sil still sat in his mind. While he trusted his rider, instinct demanded he watches him carefully while near the spot he'd been attacked in.

"I'm sorry, but this wing is off-limits," a Surdan guard replied, "No one is admitted unless they've business concerning the new ambassador's arrival."

"I'm a close friend of the troupe," Lawrence explained, "my friend wasn't at sparring practice today."

"Mister Longshanks, then?" the guard inquired, continuing when Lawrence confirmed his identity, "I was told to inform you that the current events are occupying everyone including Kaldor. Azrud had forbidden your entrance with Baldwin's permission. This lasts until after the new representative has arrived." Lawrence's head sagged. Something felt off. He and Edoc'sil could sense the rest of the Surdan troupe beyond the door, but not Kaldor.

_Let us ask Vrael-elda during training tomorrow, _Edoc'sil counseled. The ancient rider had asked them to both be present for tomorrow's training. Lawrence agreed and left the building. He and Edoc'sil enjoyed a long flight to dispel the doubt. Young Longshanks found it hard to hold on to his worries when in the air. He'd manage to sleep soundly that night despite lingering concerns.

The Great Hold was a towering structure and miracle of magic and engineering. In the great reconstruction following the defeat of the Forsworn, Alagaesia moved as one to help prop up their staunch protectors (and make some counterbalances known in the distant city of the riders). Originally a tower for Vrael himself when he led the order, it now housed all riders of age whose dragon was over two years old.

It felt as though a rainbow shimmered around its heights as dragons landed and took flight at the many openings in the structure. Edoc'sil tilted himself to the left, descending to the giant tower's midsection. A massive opening greeted them when they landed. It resembled Edoc'sil's stone bed but for a dragon of a much greater size. Vrael's dragon maybe.

Lawrence dismounted onto the polished marble and approached the meditating elf. He went to speak but found himself speechless. He felt a vast consciousness press against his mind. It was the presence he first felt when he met the elven rider. It came across as draconic. The normal openness with Edoc'sil too faltered before the presence. Lawrence went to strengthen his mental barriers, but Vrael spoke.

"Relax, you're not in any danger," Lawrence obeyed his mentor's words. A moment later, the presence completely withdrew. "Yes, we can take the time to search for Kaldor's mind. Busy should not mean absent."

"Ebrithil," Lawrence asked, confusion lacing his voice, "who was that?"

"You'll know soon enough," His mentor's response brought the image of smirking Lute to his mind. He'd not seen her in two weeks. Having become busier himself, she'd started making friends and spending her time with them.

_Do you know who that was? _Lawrence asked Edoc'sil.

_I can't say, _the dragon replied.

_Can't or won't? _Irritation flew across the link, but the rider received only silence. With a deep breath, he dismissed the whole affair. They would find Kaldor, and that took priority. No further words came as all three joined their minds and extended their collective consciousness. Lawrence held his proverbial tongue when he felt the same presence join them.

The multitude they brushed across felt like moving amongst mountains and fortresses. Other minds were like open fields with no barriers aside from a beginning and endpoint. More still felt barred with doors of stone. None though held the familiarity of Kaldor's mind. Despite this, they pressed on in concentrated silence.

"It's like I told you," Lawrence complained with worry in his voice.

*Focus,* Vrael ordered, *Your distracting fear hinders our search.* Heeding the command, Lawrence used his anxiety as energy to reinvigorate his efforts. With the prodding guidance of Vrael and the draconic presence, they hovered (per se) around the Seat of the Peoples.

_There is a haze here, _Edoc'sil commented, _I felt it yesterday, but it was nearly unnoticeable. It seems more distinct now. _Lawrence sensed his mentor push against the haze like a wall.

_There are new wards here, _Vrael said with some frustration. Then, the fourth presence exerted a large amount of energy. It felt like something snapped. Kaldor's mind could be seen again, but it felt encompassed by walls of iron. The fourth presence faded from feeling like a bonfire to a flickering candle, and everyone pulled back from their mental link.

"There," Vrael said wearily, "whatever hid Kaldor should be gone now." The elf breathed deep and quick. "You have the morning off. I must rest and will look into the matter myself afterward."

"Yes, ebrithil," Lawrence said as he stood. He felt a little tired as well, but Vrael's countenance spoke of bone-deep weariness. "Thank you, Vrael-elda." Lawrence said earnestly as he mounted Edoc'sil. Any frustration Lawrence felt for the earlier withholding of information evaporated. Like when they first met, the elf had helped Lawrence when he wasn't obligated to. Gratitude was in order, not suspicion or resentment.

Kaldor had been absent from sparring that afternoon but resurfaced two days later. His mind still felt like a wall of metal or cold, _hard _stone. His friend didn't speak a word throughout their practice, and Lawrence struggled to focus. Nasuada didn't comment except to correct or chide and left promptly at the regimen's end. Kaldor made to follow quickly, but Lawrence blocked his path.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to display the depth of his concern. Kaldor's gaze looked distant before he averted it. He knew not where it came from, but anger sparked in Lawrence's chest. "What happened to you the other day?"

"I'm just tired with preparations," Kaldor's voice sounded off too, hollow and empty. Broken. Lawrence knew he would get no further response, but Edoc'sil drew near. The dragon made his mental presence known to Kaldor as much as to his rider. Linking with his dragon, the rider felt the equivalent of someone banging on a bell. The dragon sought entrance into the youth's mind. Kaldor began to hold his head, and Lawrence urged his dragon to draw back. He met his rider halfway.

No more mental intrusions came, but the dragon landed and looked Kaldor in the eye, craning its neck down. Being unable to communicate with Ebonskin, Edoc'sil asked Lawrence to relay a message. Anger was replaced by confusion, but the rider agreed. He smiled when he understood his dragon's reasoning.

"Kaldor," Lawrence asked. The youth actually held Lawrence's gaze. "Would you like to ride my dragon?" Whatever hung over his longtime friend faltered. Genuine emotion showed. With wide eyes, Kaldor answered.

"Yes," the boy said meekly. With no further conversation, Lawrence helped Kaldor mount and even took the time to attach a riding strap. While the metal wall remained around his friend's mind, Lawrence could sense the awe his friend displayed. Kaldor beamed.

Lawrence joined his mind with Edoc'sil the moment the dragon forsook the ground. He could feel the weight of his friend upon his dragon as their senses melded. Gratitude and excitement eeked through the barrier around Kaldor and bounced around the joined minds of rider and dragon.

Lawrence let the current troubles fade away as he concentrated on the sensations of flight. Wind got caught beneath leathery wings. Muscles worked to pump the wings. A rider enjoyed himself between the neck and wings.

The flight would end with a lazy, circling descent, and the trio would face the barrier which separated them again. Kaldor's expression carried more levity than before. Dismounting, the rider and dragon stared at their friend. They pressed again on the mental wall, much softer though. Kaldor gripped his head in pain, but they made a connection. Lingering gratitude came through the link alongside another emotion: deep fear.

_Why? _Asked the bonded pair through the closing mental link.

_Granny Dorah, _Kaldor said. Then, he severed the connection. The last they saw, Kaldor walked away with the same distant look in his eyes.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Greetings to all readers! I apologize for the unexplained hiatus. There were a couple of things that went on which prevented my updates, but none of them kept me off this long. Part of the reason is my enjoyment of the game Stellaris. This game is long and time-consuming, but I enjoy it greatly. Nevertheless, I plan on resuming regular updates. This Wednesday I should post on time. _


	11. Chapter 11: Treachery

Chapter 11: Treachery

Lawrence and Edoc'sil wouldn't have more than a day to ponder Kaldor's vague answer. Less than 24 hours later, chaos would begin its descent upon their lives. The evening after they left Kaldor, Lawrence scried Granny Dorah. She sat safe in his old room. Magnius too he tried to scry, but only black showed himself. He would've worried, but this was the usual result he got. Vrael too couldn't give a reasoning or an answer. Then, Kaldor came calling.

It was noontime the day following. Kaldor came by to inform Nasuada he couldn't come to sparring anymore due to a spike in activity with the ambassadorial troupe. His tone carried the same hollowness from yesterday. Still, he spoke more than had then, so Lawrence was hopeful. His hope continued to grow when he was invited to talk with Baldwin this evening about the disturbance with the last ambassador.

"He wanted to address something about the incoming ambassador with you," Kaldor informed. Lawrence readily accepted. Edoc'sil had some misgivings about the whole affair. Lawrence alone at the Seat of the Peoples. Kaldor acting odd. Despite the concerning circumstances, young Longshanks insisted on attending.

_Fine! _Edoc'sil relented through his frustration, _but if anything is remiss, I will break stone and hew down whatever doors lay between us! _

_I would expect nothing less, _Lawrene said, his hand caressing the lower jaw of his partner of heart and mind. They had debated the whole situation the entire day and through the flight there. He felt his friend's rough scales as he pondered the evening. In his other hand, he carried his staff. He waited outside for Kaldor. Beyond his friend from the Tierm, he wanted to see Baldwin. It was him who inspired Lawrence's drive for peace. It had been well over a week since they last spoke.

Kaldor descended the short flight of stairs across from the entrance Lawrence had passed through. Two massive columns held up the arched entrance. After exchanging shallow greetings, the pair entered the reception area. His dragons misgivings eked out through the bond despite their mutual attempts to smother them. The anxiety and Lawrence's suppression of it dug up both nostalgia and trauma. As he rubbed the left side of his chest, Kaldor suddenly lurched to the right with a pained look.

"Are you okay?" Lawrence asked concerned. His anxiety spiked, and he felt his heart rate increase. Then, it immediately evaporated beneath a wave of protectiveness and encouragement.

_Thank you, _Lawrence said to his dragon.

_Be safe, _his dragon admonished, _fight well. _Young Longshanks' heart soared at the last piece of advice. He straightened his back and extended a hand to Kaldor. His ebon-skinned friend in the Surdan yellow tunic didn't accept it. Lawrence retracted it with a hint of awkwardness when his friend help himself up with a look of frustration.

"Thank you, but I'm okay," Kaldor said dismissively. So, they ascended a floor, nearing the Surdan apartment. Kaldor then turned around completely and started walking away. Lawrence stopped, placing his hand on his hips. He felt his knuckles catch on his gray linen shirt.

"Kaldor," Lawrence called, "Kaldor!"

"What?" the Surdan aide responded with a look of confusion.

"Baldwin is this way, right?"

"Yes," Kaldor confirmed through gritted teeth. As if dragging a ball and chain, Lawrence's friend passed him. They finally arrived outside the chamber. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Lawrence said, confusion and a little fear coloring his voice.

"I'm sorry I can't join you," Kaldor said hastily, "Du- Azrud needed to speak with me before tomorrow, and we've not had a chance tonight."

"Kaldor," Lawrence said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder, "is something wrong?" Silence.

"No," Kaldor said with a firm shake of his head, "besides, if I go now, I might be able to come join you and Baldwin." Lawrence reluctantly nodded and moved inside.

He should've listened to his dragon. He should've noticed the usual guards absent from the apartment's front door. He should've… but he didn't. When he stepped through the door, something gripped Lawrence. Fear. A haze too settled on his mind. Through the fog, he thought to run, but he heard Baldwin call from his room in the back.

"Come here, Lawrence!" the man called. Though, it came across as more of a command. He moved fearfully and begrudgingly to the innermost room. No one else remained in the entire apartment, none who could be a witness.

Captain Baldwin sat on the same couch Lawrence had sat in when he came for advice so long ago. At his host's gesture, he sat on the side opposite of him. He laid his staff beside him and waited. Baldwin's lips began moving as if he was talking, but no words came forward. Lawrence leaned forward straining to hear him.

"Baldwin," Lawrence asked in frustration after a minute of this, "what's going on?" The haze lifted a little, and the questions flowed. "Where is everyone else, and why has Kaldor been asking so weird?" The man raised his hand in a defensive gesture and took on a look of concern. "Stop doing that!" Lawrence said, his fear and irritation making him snap. Then, Baldwin stood, his left hand resting on a sword hilt.

Lawrence instinctively reached for his staff. Baldwin drew his sword. Lawrence called the man's name several times, but to no avail. With nothing but empty space between the parallel sofas, Lawrence and Baldwin stood at sparring length. The Surdan lunged.

Lawrence parried the strike and darted his staff at Baldwin's shoulders. The man stumbled back. The rider's heart was pounding his mind a jumble of thoughts. The haze hadn't completely lifted. It felt like his brain was a gate, battered by a ram during a siege. His heart cried for him to not hurt his role-model. Instinct demanded he defend himself.

Baldwin righted himself and began a series of strokes Lawrence had just recently learned. Lawrence turned aside several horizontal and vertical strikes. Finally, the blade bit into his staff, and Lawrence attempted to yanks the sword from Baldwin's hand. He couldn't as the blade came loose, but he kicked the captain in the chest. In the tumble backward, the captain lost hold of the sword he held.

_Kill him! Kill him! _A voice thundered in Lawrence's ears. _Do this or you'll die! _Fear like a blinding light gripped his heart and he reach for the sword. Then, the gate of his mind caved beneath the mental probe battering it. Determination rushed in. It sparked Lawrence's defiance. In the storm of emotions, the rider found himself still reaching for the sword. He stood over a subdued Baldwin looking up at him in fear. Lawrence warred with himself. He had to stop, but he raised the sword's hilt, blade pointed downward. Lawrence snapped when he realized there would be no going back.

*I will not kill! I will not take the life of one who can choose!

One who knows compassion and cruelty

Or can distinguish between mercy and malice.

I will not kill one of moral free will!*

He knew that his magic was limited, but the language of power bound those who took an oath with its words. The storm instantly calmed. He lowered his arm, his grip on the blade's wooden handle softening. His fear stilled. His heart and mind sighed in relief. He'd drawn the line in the sand he'd been seeking. He'd rather it not have happened so thoughtlessly or in the midst of such a crisis, but it was done.

He recognized the battering ram as his dragon pushing through the bond. His mind nudged the connection. Lawrence smiled. Whatever would happen he knew where he stood a little better. He went to toss the sword away when a blade sprouted from the spot he'd been stabbed in. Trauma and shock strung up Lawrence's mind between history and reality.

Before he his mind cut out he heard two things, one in his mind and another in his ears. Through the bond he felt Edoc'sil rage and roar. In his ears, he heard Kaldor speak.

"I'll save you Baldwin."

Unlike the first time Lawrence was stabbed, this blow would've only been lethal if he'd bled out all night. A raging dragon though drew attention to the problems which befell his rider. Varden warriors would arrive, shame lacing their thoughts as they realized they'd failed again. Vrael was the second to arrive. He and Kletos worked to calm the near berserk Edoc'sil.

When the dragon saw Lawrence alive and breathing, if unconscious. His panic dimmed into an unrest of concern for his rider and rage at Kaldor. Lawrence would land back in his bed in like manner to the first attack on his life to wake the next morning. With him out of the way, and his dragon calmed as much as he could be. The leaders of the Varden and the riders could focus on the deeper issues.

While injured, Lawrence had been found next to a bloody sword. Across from him, Baldwin lay slain. The man's blood upon the blade. Vrael refused to see what was circumstantial. He instead searched the length of the city with his mind for any other member of the Surdan ambassadorial troupe, but none remained in the city or even on Vroengard. So, he sent out riders toward the direction of the mainland. Whatever had happened, peace had died with Baldwin. Vrael hoped Lawrence, his peace-maker of an apprentice, hadn't killed it.

A red sun rose and tinted the marble city of Doru Araeba. Lawrence woke to light upon the velvet colored city. When conscious, he felt his shoulder and breathed easy. Good doctors were a privilege of a dragon rider, and one he was twice glad for. Unlike the last time where his mind blocked out a lot, he remembered everything until he lost consciousness. He rubbed his shoulder as a phantom pain radiated from the healed wound.

His mind turned to the rage and fear of his dragon. Then, Edoc'sil forcefully beckoned him to join him. Lawrence needed no prodding. Like last time, he again let the confident and warm embrace of his dragon help ebb away his worries. He did keep his mind focused though, despite Edoc'sil's prodding. The words of his friend rang in his mind: _I'll save you Baldwin. _

Lawrence shuddered at the memory of gripping the blade with intent to kill. In the midst of trauma, his heart suddenly sang. He remembered his oath. The words were burned into his mind and carried authority. The introspection granted young Longshanks a measure of peace. It felt like Kaldor had betrayed him (in no small part because his friend had stabbed him). He couldn't wrap his mind around what compelled Baldwin to attack him. Yet, in the midst of crisis, he had not betrayed himself. He remembered Baldwin's earlier advice about being tested, but what a trial to test his ideals. He wept bittersweet tears. The advice of the Surdan ambassador had been right.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I apologize for the tardy update once again. This past week had several stressers. First, my town hosted a local fair, and that took up most of my weekend. I also volunteered to work second shift to help a co-worker. Finally, I broke a second bike this month when I took a tumble off of it scraped my knee pretty bad. These things won't hinder my schedule in the week to come, so I should finally be able to update regularly._


	12. Chapter 12: Ties that Bind

Chapter 12: Ties that Bind

The days to follow could be summarized in one word: grief. Lawrence's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and stayed there. Baldwin was dead. He hadn't learned that until the day after he woke up. With his heart like lead in his chest, he ceased to sleep in his own bed, preferring to drift off enveloped beneath his dragon's wings. Grief didn't equate with loneliness, and Lawrence thanked what higher powers there were for his becoming a rider.

Adding insult to injury, Lawrence wouldn't have long to grieve. Nasuada personally delivered his summons. For the first time since they met, Lawrence saw shame and empathy color a face normally set with determination and stoicism. Her visit had been brief and formal as always, but the two failures in the otherwise spotless reputation of the Varden shook her.

"I'm sorry," she said with a grim face.

"Don't be," Lawrence said as he sat against his dragon. She'd done him the favor of relaying the message in a more comfortable setting. She looked uncomfortable (another new emotion to see in her eyes) by his words. "If it hadn't been for your training, I would've died."

"Thank you, rider," she replied before rising to leave. Her scale-mail clinked mutely as she exited his room. The silence which she left behind carried the weight of her somber message. Alagaesia wanted to question Lawrence. The counsel, except for the absent Surdan troupe, would be gathered to ask what questions they deemed fit. In extraordinary fashion, the riders too would be present. Lawrence laughed at the absurdity of his circumstances. Why him? What drew him into where he was? Edoc'sil shifted and shoved his rider aside.

_What was that for?! _Lawrence asked. His roiling emotions colored his tone. He rested on his rump with his hands propping him up. He could feel the cool, smooth stone of his dragon's bed.

_You are wavering, _Edoc'sil said firmly with concern.

_Of course, I am! _Lawrence raged, _Damn it, I've lost two of my best friends! It may even be that half of Alagaesia blames me for what tore them for me. Why? What have I done to deserve this?!_

_You want peace, _Edoc'sil said, _you have set yourself to making the world better. There are those who will oppose you. Did you think this would be an easy flight? You fly in a storm. _The dragon lowered its head to stare his rider in the face. _You must be as I have promised to be—unconquerable! _

_It hurts, _Lawrence couldn't get the image of himself holding a sword, ready to strike down Baldwin, _I'm just trying to do what I can to help others, and I ended up with two blades stuck in me. _His choice of words caused him to shiver and a phantom pain wracked his shoulder. He felt his individuality grew hazy as his dragon drew their minds together. The pain faded and his cares with them.

_Let us be for each other a mountain, _their voices rumbled with a distinctly draconic flare, _when one feels like a flyer, tired from a long flight, the other will be a rest and shelter for them. _Then, Edoc'sil pointedly drew back from the mental embrace, not diminishing the waves of affection he sent to his rider. _Land and rest awhile. We've more battles yet to fight for the peace you seek. _

Lawrence embraced his dragon tightly and let the tears flow as he mourned the loss of one who inspired him and one he fought for. He let himself be and rest. Tomorrow would come with its troubles. He would stand before the counsel at the appointed time, but that time was later.

The following day, Lawrence rose early and readied himself. He shaved with magic and refreshed himself at a nearby bath house. He went for a flight on Edoc'sil and enjoyed breakfast with his dragon upon his stone slab. Then, a knock came from the door. Lawrence knew the council meeting would not happen for another few hours. So, it was a surprise for him when he opened to see Mr. Haddock.

"Mister Longshanks!" the man greeted warmly.

"Councilman Haddock?" Lawrence asked incredulously.

"It's just mister Haddock now," the man responded jovially, "my more… questionable practices didn't sit well with a few other on the council. Then, there was a snitch…"

"Mr. Haddock," Lawrence asked, utterly confused, "May I ask why you're here or why you're telling me this?"  
"Well," he said with a smile, "I am meeting my future business partner and visiting my daughter." Lawrence arched an eyebrow. "Your father fully supported my removal from the council. Then, he approached me afterward with a business offer I couldn't refuse. My property was to be confiscated, so he promised to buy it all. He would then turn it back over to me with two conditions. I make it a point to help renovate a part of the slum and defer to you when he passes the business on to you."

"My father does remember that I am a rider?" Lawrence asked.

"Yes," he nodded enthusiastically, "so long as you continue to have final authority, he'll let me manage all your assets when he retires." The dots connected for young Longshanks. Then, he laughed alongside Mr. Haddock. His father had won their rivalry, brought justice, and employed a man of cunning. "He also demanded I do everything legally, so I'm turning over a new leaf, I guess." Lawrence nodded, earnestly happy at the turn of events. "I also came to say thank you for doing as I asked."

"What do you mean?" Lawrence asked before his departure from Tierm flashed in his mind. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Then, he remembered how he'd stopped visiting Lute about three weeks ago. "I'm sorry, but I've actually not visited Lute recently."

"It's okay," Mr. Haddock said. He asked if he could enter, and they moved to the stone bed in the back area. "Wow." Mr. Haddock said with sincere awe. Edoc'sil preened in a rare moment of pride. Lawrence rolled his eyes as he took his normal spot beside his friend. The fiery-orange scales rubbed against Lawrence's matching tunic. "As I was saying, it is fine."

"Yet, I've not kept Lute company in almost a month," Lawrence protested, guilt coloring his voice.

"From what I've heard, you've been in some deep trouble, no?" the ex-councilman asked.

"Yes…" Lawrence trailed off.

"I won't press," he said with a dismissive wave of his hands, "to ease your burden as much as I can, I want to assure you Lute is doing very well. Her dragon is her best friend, and there are two other children around her age she has grown close to. You did what was necessary to help her travel and adjust. So, thank you." Lawrence nodded, relieved and happy for his temporary little sister.

"So…" Lawrence began as they turned the conversation towards home. Like the letters he received, news was dire. Ten ships in total had been lost. The outcry grew, against both wild dragons and riders. The former many saw as beasts needed to be put in check, and the latter proved inept.

"One councilman," Mr. Haddock said dourly, "my replacement actually, suggested expelling the riders and taking matters into our own hands. You father obviously sees this as the worst possible course of action. So, aside from the troubles at home, what has been going on here?" Lawrence sighed. Mr. Haddock had forgotten he wouldn't push rather quickly, but the rider humored him nonetheless.

He didn't share everything, but he told most things. The first attack stunned him, but Baldwin's death made him freeze. He voiced thoughts which troubled the rider. Mr. Haddock had never shown his own opinion about the riders, but his evident disappointment about their failures within their stronghold discouraged the Lawrence.

"I am actually standing in on a hearing on the matter," the rider said before realizing what that statement would lead to. His new business partner prodded, and Lawrence relented. For the first time ever, Lawrence saw anger in Mr. Haddock's face.

"That's ludicrous!" He shouted. Dragon and rider were both surprised, "Do they imply that you could really kill Baldwin."

"Some may think so," Lawrence admitted with some bitterness, "but I am confident not all do. The troupe from Tierm had filed a complaint at the manner in which this situation was handled, especially the two attacks."

"Right of them too," Mr. Haddock said firmly. Then, he rose from the borrowed desk chair with a sigh and stretched. "I promised Lute we'd have lunch together, but I will be present as a viewer. I've some favors from the current ambassador." Lawrence nodded in gratitude at the moral support from the most unlikely place. Then, the ex-councilman departed.

Two hourslater, Lawrence stood in the counsel chamber with heart pounding. He suppressed the suspicion which instinctively cropped up as he passed the Varden warriors at the door. Everyone who would be present had already arrived. All except for one massive silver dragon. That changed when both Parakletos and Edoc'sil descended.

His dragon had been supporting him emotionally the entire way through, but his physical presence lifted Lawrence's countenance dramatically. He straightened his shoulders and walked to the center of the room. For the first time in his life, he truly understood how Kaldor first felt when they met. Around the room were representatives of all Alagaesia (excluding Surda). The riders filled the Surdan booth out of practicality, but no other nation was absent. The far-flung kingdoms of the elves and dwarves stood as present as the other three nations of men: The Commonwealth of Tierm, the kingdom of New Broddring, and the Palancar Confederacy.

Some doubted whether or not that last kingdom counted a nation of "men." There, urgals, men and dragons (with elven and dwarven minorities) lived beside one another. Even one of the viewers present was an Urgal. Lawrence wondered what hoops they had to jump through to arrange that. His awe ended when Oromis (it took Lawrence a moment to recall the elf's name) stepped out from the booth.

"Lawrence Longshanks," the elf boomed, "you are called here today to give account for what you remember of the most recent attack on the Surdan troupe. Will you answer all questions fully and truly?"

*Yes,* Lawrence affirmed in the language of power. *I will submit to whatever this council asks of me. With nothing to hide, I want justice for my friend who perished.* That last sentence stoked some whispering, but Oromis raised his hand for silence.

"At the end, will you permit your mind to be searched by magicians from each party present?" Lawrence felt indignation rise within him, furthered by that of his partner's. With a deep breath, he stood as tall as he could and agreed.

*Certainly.*

"Then, please begin you account," Oromis ordered politely. A half-hour passed as Lawrence recounted his story without interruption. He appreciated the restraint shown so he could speak fully. Some whispered when he got to the point about the duel between him and Baldwin. Looks of skepticism hardened when he mentioned how he held the sword above Baldwin, ready for the kill.

"Whatever drove me and Baldwin to fight failed to move me to kill him," Lawrence spoke loudly so all could here, "to prevent any chance of that I took the following oath…

*I will not kill! I will not take the life of one who can choose!

One who knows compassion and cruelty

Or can distinguish between mercy and malice.

I will not kill one of moral free will!*

The room stood frozen as Lawrence spoke again the words of power which now stayed his hand. He looked around the room in the momentary pause afterward, looking to faces he recognized. Vrael stared at him with a frustrated expression. Nasuada shook her head with exasperation. Mr. Haddock was confused, but his face turned to surprise when the words were translated for him. Whispers and conversations sparked when he spoke Lawrence's last words.

"Before we open the floor to questions," Oromis said, "will you let the magicians verify your tale?" Lawrence swallowed and nodded nervously. A procession quickly formed. A man from each booth. Young Longshanks took a breath and lowered his barriers.

He felt naked as consciousness after foreign consciousness perused his memories like one would a book. Despite feeling so small, Edoc'sil comforted him and "sat" his mental presence in his rider's mind. The process went without issue aside from one odd occurrence. Being semi-independent entity, the Varden had their own mage verify the story. The woman chosen shared a memory from her own life. She was Surdan.

He tensed, but the memory she shared left him awed and believing a little more in providence. She had served in the Surdan army during the last conflict between Surda and New Broddring. She served under Baldwin. Like Lawrence himself, the late captain had inspired her also to do what she could to promote peace. It comforted him he did not fight alone. She was the last magician in the procession. Afterwards, silence reigned as the booths discussed the results. Then, Oromis stood to speak again.

"Are all satisfied with the veracity of his claim?" the question rang out, and the new ambassador from New Broddring was the first to stand.

"Yes, and I want to dismiss a vicious rumor," Lawrence's heart skipped a beat at the man's words. He wasn't referring to what Lawrence thought he was, right? "Upon my arrival, an aide of mine informed me of the gossip and available information about today's hearing. Let it be known that New Broddring believes this rider to be innocent of any wrongdoing of the disruptions which have touched this place of cooperation and unity. Furthermore, we are dedicated to stepping back from armed confrontation with Surda. We will sustain our border forts but make no incursions, retaliatory or otherwise into Surda."

One by one, the remaining parties stood and confirmed the first statement made by the new ambassador. Lawrence felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Edoc'sil too sent a wave of relief and joy through the bond. His rider didn't notice it in the moment, but another emotion was sent too: frustration.

"The floor is now open for questions," Oromis announced. Then, silence again fell. The newest ambassador spoke again.

"I think any remaining discussion doesn't require the presence of young Longshanks," a majority nodded in agreement to the man's words. Thus, Lawrence and Edoc'sil were discharged and exited together through the open-air ceiling.

The young rider's heart felt much lighter after the counsel session. Breathing more than one sigh of relief. The late afternoon sun shone beneath the cloud cover which had made the morning overcast. Only a sense of dissonance from the bond kept Lawrence from completely relaxing. He knew his Fire-Jewel shared his relief and joy over the results, but his dragon had been silent and put up a barrier.

"Edoc'sil," Lawrence called through the wind as they glided toward their room in the Hall of Instruction, "is something wrong?"

_After we land,_ was the only response the dragon gave. The tone sounded restrained. Lawrence jolted slightly upon touch down, but he promptly dismounted wondering what bothered his friend. Then, an orange tail swiped him off his feet. His whole body felt jarred as he hit the hard stone.

"What was that for?!" Lawrence asked, pained and annoyed.

_The oath, _Edoc'sil hissed, _you took that ridiculous oath! _Lawrence looked up in utter confusion at his friend. The dragon lowered his barriers and let his rider see all he'd suppressed. As the unfettered emotion gushed through the link, Lawrence's mouth dropped. Edoc'sil then pinned his rider to the stone (careful not to hurt his rider) and hissed, _It hurts!_

Lawrence's mouth gaped before he swallowed deeply. Shame and guilt swelled in his heart. Young Longshanks had chosen his ideals over his dragon. If they found themselves in a fight where killing the enemy was the only way to stay alive, then Lawrence would die and leave his dragon alone. The stark emotion and realization chilled the rider's heart.

_I'm sorry, _he croaked mentally. He felt torn. His heart didn't regret the oath, but it did regret its consequences. _I didn't know what else to do. _The dragon breathed heavily peering at the other half of his heart intently. The pain Edoc'sil bore now reverberated between their hearts.

_I don't hate you for it, _Edoc'sil relented, _the same reason you took the oath is the same reason I chose you. You—no, we would fight together to protect life and peace. I'm not happy with your choice, but… _The dragon trailed off as inspiration struck. His rider took an oath which affected them both, so he would too.

Magic, dragon magic, suddenly spiked. Lawrence did nothing to oppose his partner. Instead, he raised his right arm and laid it on Edoc'sil snout. His gedwëy ignasia glowed as he heard his dragon mental voice ring with words of power.

*_Two hearts bound as one by sacred bond_

_Ever shall they beat in life together._

_If yours fails, then I too will meet death_

_And sleep unwaking ever thereafter. _

_My heart stops when yours does, and my fight ends with you.*_

Lawrence paused to think of what others might think of these oaths, but he remembered his own and repeated the ancient words. Lawrence felt an odd thrum in his chest, and Edoc'sil followed suit.

_I choose to fight alongside you, _Edoc'sil said, _I couldn't bear to fight without you. _

_I feel the same, _Lawrence admitted, then asked, _Should we tell Vrael?_

_If it becomes known we will make our stand, _Edoc'sil stated, _but we should pick and choose what battles we need to fight right now._

_Agreed._

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_This week didn't quite go as I planned, so I missed another update. However, I am hellbent on getting it updated each week. I hope those who have kept with the story are enjoying it. Any feedback is much welcome._


	13. Chapter 13: A Storm Brews

Chapter 13: A Storm Brews

It would be another three months before great trouble wormed its way back into the life of Lawrence Longshanks and Edoc'sil Fire-Jewel. After taking a shared oath, they'd renewed their dedication to training. Their progress and peace didn't pass without conflict though. The oath Lawrence had shared with the counsel had not been well received by many parties present. It proved divisive enough to warrant a new mentor for the young rider. A chance encounter with Vrael reminded him of this fact.

"Are your studies going well?" his former mentor asked. They stood outside the Seat of the Peoples. Lawrence had been heading down the carved stone steps on his way back to the Great Hold.

"Yes, Vrael-elda," the young rider responded, making his back as straight as he could. An awkward silence hung in the air before the elf responded again.

"I'm glad, finiarel." Vrael's use of the honorific felt sterile and cold. The rider and his former mentor had a long argument the evening after the council session three months prior. Lawrence had stuck to his ideals throughout the divisive conversation. Neither would compromise. Lawrence couldn't really, bound by oath as he was. When mounting pressures led the order to involve Vrael more and more, Lawrence was passed to a new mentor. The two had grown apart. Sour about the situation at first, the youth moved on with Edoc'sil's support.

"Are you here to speak with one of the ambassadors?" Vrael inquired.

"I am actually just finishing," Lawrence said wearily, "I am stilled tired from training with Arya this morning. I plan to rest actually." The elven princess and rider had drilled him in combat for the past month, pushing him into new depths of weariness. Nasuada's regimen looked relaxing by comparison. He still sparred with the ebon-skinned warrior, but Arya double stacked his martial training. He embraced this. His inhibitions about combat had greatly diminished with the stakes raised by his binding oaths.

"Who did you speak with today?"

"The representative from the Palancar Confederacy," Lawrence responded. He spent an hour each day here speaking with people from all across Alagaesia. He'd learned of dwarven religion, elven philosophy, and new nuances of human history. He enjoyed learning most about the somewhat secluded human nation to the north. The threat of the Forsworn had forced men, urgals, dragons and elves to work together. A multiracial confederacy (unrivaled across the land in its diversity) resulted. "We spoke of the way their military organizes their differing recruits."

"Well," Vrael said with a warm smile Lawrence had missed over the past few months, "there is a special guest who you can welcome. He travels around a lot, but he grew up in the north. He arrives by dragon back this afternoon."

"Who is the guest of honor?" Lawrence asked.

"You'll know him when you see him," Vrael assured the youth, "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Lawrence-finiarel." The words felt warmer in the farewell.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, Vrael-vodhr."

About an hour later, Lawrence lay flat against the warm scales of Edoc'sil's sinuous neck. He melded his mind with his partner and shared a little energy to help ease the soreness in the dragon's wings. Firnen, a warm and charismatic personality, proved an exacting instructor. Wind drafts, flight maneuvers, distinguishing weather patterns, etc. His instruction was deep and wide.

_You don't have to do that, _Edoc'sil advised halfheartedly, _You're as tired as I am. _

_Yes, _Lawrence admitted, _but you're the one who's still expending energy. _A wave of affection came from his dragon in response. Warmed inside and out by his friend, Lawrence enjoyed the moment. The world grew cold around them as winter and rumors of war crept ever closer. It was the ninth month of the year.

After another minute of lax flight, Lawrence sat up. The cool evening air of an overcast day made him shiver a moment. Then, the greeting bugle of a large dragon reverberated through the sky. Amidst the many dragons which filled the air, the familiar opalescent, silver scales of Parakletos stood out against the gray sky. Edoc'sil greeted his sire in like manner.

The princely dragon had suddenly departed the council assembly, and another wild dragon had stood in as his proxy. There had been no explanation or reason. Not even the council of the riders had known about this until the dragon was conspicuously absent. Lawrence pondered if Parakletos might be bearing the guest. If his suspicions were correct, than said guest would have a lot of explaining to do. Magnius rode upon the silver dragon's bare back.

_Magnius? _Lawrence asked, quickly extending his mind (it had a draconic sense to it, a Parakletos-esque sensation), _What are you doing here?_

_Glad to see you've both grown, _Magnius replied warmly, _but can we speak somewhere warmer?_

_Sure, _Lawrence said. They very quickly made their way to the young rider's quarters in the Hall of Instruction. With the humans hold up inside, the dragons went off to hunt. Edoc'sil, though happy to see his sire, had originally intended to rest.

_We can sleep when the fight's over, right? _The dragon asked glumly.

_You're talking about life again, right? _Lawrence quipped.

_Right, _his partner said before the range thinned their connection.

"So," Lawerence began as they shut the inner screens of his room and cast a warming spell, "what are you doing here? I've not received a letter from you in two months."

"My apologies for that," Magnius said, "but I have been busy."

"More importantly," Lawrence prodded, "what were you doing riding a wild dragon? Despite my inquiry, you've yet to share about the apparent connection between you and Kletos."

"Since you're such a gracious host," Magnius jested in slight irritation, "I'll share my reasons for the former and let you ask one question which I must answer about the latter." Lawrence grimaced at the tone and offered the remaining pastry he'd saved from lunch.

"A week ago," he began grimly, "all riders were expelled from the Tierm Commonwealth with passage through their territory heavily restricted. Only a proxy, acting as a voice and liaison for the riders abides still within the great port." Lawrence's mood soured at the report. "You look just like your father did when the vote decided the matter had been cast. Also, you father has taken an indefinite leave of his post."

"What?!" Lawrence asked in surprise.

"He wanted no part in the madness of such isolationism," Magnius explained, "Most merchant ships and war galleons were recalled to be equipped with ballistae and other weapons which might be of some effect against galleons."

"The plan to hunt the dragon?!"

"Not yet," Magnius said bitterly, "This is self-defense as it stands, but that option is being considered by several on the council." Lawrence's jaw hung low. "Their move toward isolation is ill-timed too." The sellsword (as far as Lawrence knew that's what Magnius was) bit into the pastry. Silence held the room as the man swallowed before continuing. "That is part of the news I must deliver to the leaders of the order. Surda issued an ultimatum to the Commonwealth: join us or be counted an enemy."

The mention of Surda pained Lawrence. In the three months prior, Kaldor's absence had grown more and more noticeable. The sting of betrayal too had been a conflict he faced as his training continued. Kaldor had borne witness against him in Surda, persuading the royal court that he murdered Baldwin. Magnius must have seen the pained expression on his former charge's face.

"I am sorry for what happened between you and Kaldor."

"How did you know of that?" Lawrence gazed at his friend in suspicion.

"Parakletos told me of it," Magnius admitted, "since you left it out of your final letter."

"On the topic of my dragon's sire," Lawrence asked, "my question is this: what relationship do you have with Parakletos?"

"We're not dragon and rider," Magnius stated, "if that's what you're thinking."

"Then?"

"It was during the terror of the Forsworn," Magnius recounted…

_A silver dragon grappled with a sickly-orange colored beast, one of the mindless monstrosities of the Forsworn. Wind whipped around the embattled pair as rain poured down from a darkening sky. The pair hit the ground. An elf, siting upon the mindless abomination which had once been a dragon, manage to stay mounted despite this. _

_Broken trees lay around the subdued Parakletos. He felt his maw shoved deeper into the muddy ground. The nameless one had him. He despaired as he feared for his eldunari. Slavery as a source of magic—no worse fate for a dragon. _

_*I don't know why my spells failed to harm or restrain you, dragon,* the wyrdfell sneered, *Your weakness proves your undoing nonetheless.*_

"_Charge!" came a voice loud and strong. Suddenly, the wyrdfell sank to one knee. The monstrosity looked to its dark rider in confusion. Men and urgal rushed in from all sides. Flames flew and devastated the right wing on the oncoming warriors. Despite this, the left wing drew close. The traitorous rider leapt from her beast and began cleaving people with her rider sword. A distant lightning bolt lit the blade up momentarily as though aflame. _

_Parakletos wrestled free of the beast and took to the air. Then, about two dozen men managed to encircle the evil rider and her beast. The same voice who had called the charge order the men to focus on dragon. Two kull tossed heavy chains on the maw of the winged beast. Men and urgal stabbed at the beast._

_Meanwhile, two elves stepped forward alongside the man who appeared to be the leader. As one, they engaged the oathbreaker. The she-elf held all three of them off. She focused on the elves and slew the pair one at a time, but this allowed the human to get in a rare blow. He managed to scratch the rider, but wards kept the blow from severing the sword hand he'd struck. _

_A look of rage of contorted her face. She shouted out the word for fire and hurled a ball of flame at him. Before she'd even said the word, Parakletos had swooped down. He curled around the commander and felt the flames crash against his scales. The same warding which had protected him earlier, shielded both man and dragon. _

_Despite her anger at the insolent whelp and troublesome commander, the warriors attacking her mount had done fairly well once they manage to ground the serpent and shut its maw. She then began to cleave any unfortunate soul close to her. _

"_Stand your ground, warriors of the Varden!" the commander yelled. The elf turned back around and found herself wreathed in flame. The human who nearly wounded her quickly dashed towards her. She easily blocked his strokes, but one of his subordinates struck her back. With an open opportunity. The human lunged and thrust her through with his blade. Her monstrosity of a dragon roared as she breathed her last._

_The beast snapped its chains and lunged at the man and dragon. Flames flew, but the dragon repeated his act as a shield. However, dragon fire proved more effective, and the young dragon felt his scales darken from the burns. When the beast neared the now, pained and distracted dragon, the man jumped out from behind his ally stabbed the nameless reptile in the eye with its late rider's own sword. _

_The man had landed a mortal blow, but the beast struck him in its death throes. Armor could only protect the human from so much as he flew a short distance. Instinct drove Parakletos to sink his jaws into the dragon's neck. It stilled after a few moments of the younger dragon vice grip on its neck. A few of the warriors stabbed it for good measure after the silver dragon had backed away. All those still alive gathered around the dying leader a short distance from the foes he'd bested. _

_The dragon lamented the man's state. Unlike the rest of his kin, he did not speak with the words of any two-legged creature. So, he could not communicate his gratitude. Still, he brushed against the mind of his savior. The man lowered his defenses. _

'_Are you alright?' the man inquired, 'I think I recognize you.' The man paused as if waiting for a response. When none came from the dragon, an image of Parakletos deserting a group of dragons near a fortified den of the two-legs crossed the temporary link. _

_Kletos sent a wave of grief as he realized the man had come looking for him, probably as a request by one of his kin. He couldn't—wouldn't let this man perish for his sake. Instinct took over completely as energy whirled in the dragon's being. He lowered his snout and put it to the man's bare chest (armor had been rent away by the final blow). The human gasped when the magic poured into him._

"That moment left me with this mark," Magnius said as he concluded his story. Lawrence gasped as he saw a mark similar to a gedwëy ignasia emblazoned on his old friend's chest, right over some scarring. "Yes, I know what it looks like. No, I am not a rider, but whatever spell he cast has extended my life. I've not appeared a day older since."

"Wow," Lawrence said, wrapping his mind around what he'd been told, "So… why did you tell the story as if from the dragon's point of view? Do you guys have a bond?"

"I think I've shared enough for now," Magnius said with a dismissive wave, "besides, I still have to deliver the latest news from Tierm." Lawrence rolled his eyes at being cut off. He shifted upon his bed as Magnius rose from the desk chair. The wood scraped softly against the floor. The "not-a-rider" swordsman placed a hand on his former-charge's shoulder. "You've grown, and you've not broken from what I hear. Well done."

"That's not true," Lawrence commented as his heart swelled, "I've taken to combat and know how to use several weapons. I refused to do that when you warded me." Magnius nodded in agreement.

"You had to face the real world," he said, "yet, you figured out how your ideals of 'help and not harm' can still function within it. You fought that battle and _won._ Now, that you know what you stand for—stand firm." Again, Lawrence's heart swarmed with emotions, not in the least nostalgia. He opened the link wide for his inquisitive dragon whom he felt drawing near.

"Dragon's on approach. Time for me to leave. Farewell, Rextugenos."

Lawrence stood a being address with that name. Months ago, he despised the title because it got him ridicule or praise from other people of wealth or influence. He wanted nothing to do with that world, but Magnius made it seem different. If his best friend called him that, it was a great compliment. Lawrence would dedicate himself to living up to it.

In short order, the 'not-bonded' pair had departed for the council of the riders. Magnius had left the young Longshanks looking back over the past months and reminiscing. His walk down memory lane brought him home, so he entered his room and fetched a smooth bowl. With a spell, he drew water from the plumbing in his room. Not the best source, but it was still and clear.

*Draumr kópa.* As soon as the words left his mouth, Lawrence saw an image upon the smooth water. He spoke a few more words and the face of his father appeared before him. Joed Longshanks looked grieved and tired. Bags hung low under his eyes. He stood surrounded in shadow, so Lawrence new his father stood somewhere he hadn't seen before.

*Home,* Lawrence said in the ancient language. His eyes grew wide with fear and anger. Before him was a smoldering ruin. The house his grandfather had built stood as an ashen skeleton. He quickly began to alter the spell and check on each person. Mom stood near dad. Granny Dorah rested in a guest room within the Tierm Citadel. Mr. Haddock (with an expression like his father's) stood in the same room with his parents.

_Open the screen, _Edoc'sil requested, and Lawrence obliged. During the spell, he exhausted his short magic stores and began instinctively relying on his partner. The rider rested a hand on his dragon's snout as he altered the spell one last time. He called forth a view he once had of the city when he stood atop the Ciatdel Ramparts. He went bleary eyed when the image became distinguishable.

While sections of the city appeared untouched, half of Tierm stood as a ruin. Smoke still rose from some sections of the city. The most devastated areas were the docks and the area closest to them. By the look of the city, the expressions he'd seen earlier made more sense. He breathed a prayer of thanks for the well-being of his family, then moved to mount Edoc'sil.

_Would you- _Lawrence began to ask.

_You need not ask, _Edoc'sil cut him off with a firm reply, _your home nest burns. _Without another word they set off in the cool night air, a breeze rushing quickly past Lawrence, causing his hair to whip around. Magnius would've mentioned such devastation, and he'd only been there a week ago. That meant Tierm had been sacked within the past week. The riders needed to know. The Commonwealth was crippled.


	14. Chapter 14: Surda Goes to War

Chapter 14: Surda Goes to War

_Steel yourself for the fight, _Edoc'sil challenged his rider. Lawrence stood locked in place by an internal conflict. He'd done what he should've and notified his leaders of Tierm's fall. What he hadn't anticipated were the events it would set in motion (or how quickly the events would come).

The night he told the council, shocked and angered faces looked upon him and his news. They said he'd be reprimanded (even if lightly) for disregarding protocol and courtesy by barging in the leaders' council chamber. Lawrence would've felt incredibly small before several massive dragons and their elder riders. Yet, the news he carried spurred him on and numbed all other concerns. While displeased, all understood his haste and abruptness. Considering their weariness from the long day earlier, the council (Vrael as the lead speaker) ordered Lawrence and Edoc'sil to rest and take the day after for the same.

That interim saw Vroengard wake for war. Lawrence followed his routine the next morning, but he didn't find Arya at the Great Hold in her usual quarters. The riders he did find busied themselves with strengthening several powerful wards. When he asked them of her whereabouts, they directed him to Renvard Keep.

Lawrence took care to gaze below on his second flight of the day. Through the eyes of his bonded partner, Lawrence saw buzz of the city with clarity. Vroengard made ready for battle. People swiftly moved about below setting up barricades. His destination served as the fount for all the activity.

"Rider," Nasuada had said, her face flushed, "Arya is no longer here, but she gave me custody of you for the day." Lawrence flushed in slight embarrassment. He felt like Magnius' ward all over again. He swallowed his pricked pride and simply nodded. Around them, fully armed units of Varden warriors did drills. Lines too formed of battle-capable civilians. Metal rattled occasionally as they received weapons and armor. Reality sank in and began to weigh on the rider. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "Focus, Rider."

_She's right, calm yourself, _Edoc'sil chastened. Lawrence stilled himself with an audible exhale.

"What would you have me do?" he asked evenly.

"You will be helping move and organize non-combatants," Nasuada informed, "Know that until instructed otherwise, you will be considered one yourself." That caused Edoc'sil to tilt his head in momentary surprise. Nasuada's gaze didn't change, but any confusion in dragon or rider evaporated when the rider's (by now well known) first oath came to mind. Lawrence held back a sigh of relief, and Edoc'sil held back a growl.

"Understood," Lawrence acknowledged. The captain gave him his orders, and Edoc'sil leaped aloft from the hard cobblestone. The dragon focused the pent-up energy from his frustrations into every wing beat. They rode in silence on the way to their first assignment.

They moved supplies and delivered messages. The pair directed unarmed civilians to various places of shelter. Despite the burgeoning population of the riders' city, most denizens (visitor and native alike) had combat experience. So, the pair managed to help move all the civilians before sunset.

Lawrence and his Fire-Jewel rested that evening in the Hall of Instruction. Waiting in his room, Lawrence gazed anxiously upon the set of armor that rested upon his bed. Lawrence had with the suit a sword, shield, and his quarterstaff.

_Be calm, _Edoc'sil nearly pleaded, _your emotions are setting me on edge. _

_It's hard when we're about to enter battle! _Lawrence snapped before lowering his tone, _I'm sorry. Fear grips my heart. I want to protect others, but I can't fight like they expect me to._

_You bear that blame! _Edoc'sil hissed, his temper breaking through for once, _You took that blasted oath! Now, you can't properly defend yourself, you can't properly defend me…_

Lawrence tensed as chills racked his body. He shuddered. Edoc'sil rarely broached the subject of either oath Lawrence had taken (having prompted the second one himself). The strictures had pushed them both to be as capable a fighter and diplomat as possible. They'd both increased dramatically in mage duels, and melee combat. Neither had to face the reality of the limitations of the oaths they took. While they shared one oath, Lawrence's original one made it all the more difficult.

The rider got up and walked away from his bed, his feet padding on the smooth wooden floor. Warm stone helped him relax as he approached his dragon. Both their emotions roiled across the bond. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Nervousness. Lawrence and Edoc'sil lowered their barriers to let the other in. Those emotions came in spades, but they didn't come alone. Determination. Affection. Concern. Courage. Love. Protectiveness. Such virtues, these deep feelings, went with the rest.

_I will not sit idle on during the battle, _Lawrence said as he straightened his back, _Though I cannot and will not take a life, more can be done. Whatever it is, we will help protect Vroengard. _

_What strength I have is yours, _his dragon responded, raising his head and his wing. Lawrence accepted this invitation and again rested with his dragon. His friends profuse body heat warmed him and the smooth stone beneath him. The tension dimmed as he rested. Edoc'sil's heart-rate slowed. The consistent thumping stilled Lawrence's mind as he listened. _I do not hate you, _the dragon reassured his rider, _I am scared too. You made the oath for the same reason I chose you. You fight for what you believe in. We took our second oath because we stand or fall as one. I made that choice. Mistake or not, we will learn to live with this. _

_What if we don't? _Lawrence voiced his deepest fear. Could he take his ideals that far? The oath certainly buttressed the possibility.

_If we do, _Edoc'sil stated with both resignation and determination, _then, my short life with you ended the way it began: fighting for what I believe with the one I believe in._ The words sat on Lawrence. He not only received the words through the link. He felt and _knew _every emotion and the deep conviction which came with it.

_I love you, _Lawrence said, his voice cracking.

_And I, you, my rider, _Edoc'sil crooned.

No more talk occurred. Both drifted off to sleep. Rest proved deep and refreshing. A calm before waking nightmares descended. The Surdans made landfall early the next morning.

For all the might the rider's possessed, Surda cleaved a direct, bloody path towards the rider capital. For years, the tension between Surda and New Broddring had occupied the rider's attention. Only now though, upon green fields turned crimson, did the riders behold the might of the southern kingdom.

The finest of Surda's men compiled the expedition, but the riders should've been able to deal with them. Their enemy had a secret weapon which foiled the riders best efforts to turn back the arm and navy: Mage Knights. With strength like dragons, mages (wielding spell and blade) drenched the fields of the star-island in the blood of Riders and Varden warriors alike.

So far, there had only been one major engagement, one massive failure of a counter force. Azrud and a massive black dragon larger than most riders' dragons lead the invading force to victory. Wards with unnatural resilience repelled dragon flame. At least a quarter of the island's defenders fell in that battle alone. Any remaining outposts were evacuated to the capital city. As the city buzzed with last minute preparations, Lawrence and Magnius stood within Vrael's old room in the Great Hold discussing his role in the battle.

"Wouldn't that be breaking my oath?" Lawrence asked as he tapped the floor anxiously. He felt Edoc'sil's annoyance at his hesitation. He would still help defend the city, but his anxiety nipped at his heels when he considered Magnius' suggestion.

"No," the former body-guard answered resolutely. "You will only force them to stop attacking others and utilize them to sow chaos in their ranks. _You _will not kill anyone or force anyone to do so. The actions of others are beyond you."

_We will fly and fight together will we not? _Edoc'sil demanded an answer. The rider felt his dragon's growing pride as the rider silently acquiesced. He rubbed the hardened scales of his partner and breathed deep.

"We go to battle," Lawrence said, "How will Edoc'sil carry both of us though?" Not only would dragon and rider go to battle, but Magnius too would guard Lawrence once again.

"We can help with that," Vrael said as he soundlessly entered the room. Lawrence marveled at the accomplishment, considering the armor his former teacher stood arrayed in. He also carried a bundle with him. "First, you must swear in the ancient language not to reveal what you are about to learn." Lawrence paused. While he didn't regret the oaths he'd taken so far, they made him wary of using the language in such a manner again. "If it eases your concerns, many young riders will be taking the same oath. You're only learning about this later because your place would've been with medics or non-combatants originally. Magnius pushed to have you join us because of your tenacity and skill in mage duels."

Solemnly, Lawrence took the oath, straightening his back and shoulders. The weight of the oath resembled the weight of the burnished scale-mail he now wore: both taken upon himself to defend Vroengard. For the first time in his life, Lawrence felt glad to be able to fight. Then, Vrael unwrapped the balled-up cloth he carried to reveal a massive white gem, light radiated out of it like a star.

In Magnius-fashion, the enigmatic swordsman open a satchel slung across his shoulder and produced a similar jewel, but this had silverfish tint. Lawrence didn't have time to voice his myriad thought because Vrael's wrath brewed a storm.

*You dare to make _him _vulnerable?* the elf demanded.

*Kletos is not a hatchling!* Magnius shot back in uncharacteristic anger. He took a deep breath and asked for Lawrence to hold the gem. With timid wonder and curiosity, young Longshanks took the gem. He instantly scowled. Smooth and glasslike in his hand, anger radiated through from the heart in his hand. He understood.

Kletos lay between the palms of Lawrence Longshanks. A memory or two flashed, and understanding deepened. The leaders of the order showed great wisdom by demanding an oath of every two-legged person who knew such a precious secret. The anger too dissipated as Lawrence held the eldunarí.

_Sire, _Edoc'sil said, affection for the silver dragon colored his voice. Fierce pride flowed through the gem into the shared consciousness of dragon and rider. Lawrence teared up because Edoc'sil couldn't shed tears.

_Lawerence Longshanks, _a voice, thunder deep, rumbled, _I am Umaroth. _Things clicked for the rider. From that dirty alleyway in Tierm to the spires of Vroengard, the dragon of Vrael had observed his life.

_You don't approve of my ideals? _Lawrence asked reflexively as memories whirled in his head, many having a note of frustration or disapproval.

_I believe they are unrealistic and unfitting for a rider, _the dragon stated evenly, _nevertheless, the world would dim a little if a youth and fighter like yourself passed in your prime. _The concern in the words made Lawrence feel incredibly small. He pursued humility, but this was different. Something so big and vast (like the heart and mind of a dragon) cared enough to seek his well-being. Woah.

Lawrence's head bowed low as he said, *Thank you, Vrael-elda, Umaroth-elda.*

Whatever heated discussion had passed between the two evaporated the moment Lawrence spoke. Vrael's expression (and the fact Lawrence still held Umaroth) spoke the same sentiment of his dragon. The elf smiled so wide it reached his pointed ears.

Without further delay, they began work on the wards. Vrael provided framework, but the whole group (except for Edoc'sil) put forth the energy to sustain them. The elven rider and his dragon took the brunt of this because Kletos would aid Edoc'sil in having the strength to fly two people into battle. Kletos would do this himself, but he led the wild dragons in this battle.

Upon finishing their preparations, Vrael uncharacteristically embraced the young Longshanks. Caught a little off-guard, Lawrence was slow to respond. He wished him luck in battle and bid him return and prove he could win their wager. Lawrencce stiffened at the last challenge. Not for fear or anxiety, no, determination made him straighten again.

Like a rainbow of death, a detachment of dragons and their riders leapt from the top lip of the Great Hold. Others had gone before them and would follow after, but Lawrence focused only on the moment. Everything seemed realer somehow: the weight of Magnius in the seat behind him, the hard leather of the molded saddle beneath him, and the air whipping around his face. He took a deep breath as they neared the city wall. Tens of thousands of Surdans lay beyond it with siege-engines erected quickly.

Their enemy, as cunning as ever, focused on ballistae and similar contraptions aimed at grounding or maiming dragons. Siege-engines closer to the front aimed at opening the wall. Built by dwarven and elven ingenuity, such a feat would not come easy. Lawrence saw these when his line of riders approached the battle. Before they reached the front, a distant din grew deafening despite how far up they flew. Rocks sailed over the wall or crashed into it. One spire crumbled when half of its lower section collapsed.

_Focus, _Edoc'sil ordered, and the rider responded with a grim nod.

_Remember, _Magnius spoke silently to the bonded pair, _Lawrence focus on the mage-knights. They're using eldunarí. Edoc'sil, would you let me use your eyes to help locate targets for my arrows? _

_Yes, _the dragon affirmed. While the swordsman turned archer melded slightly with his dragon, Lawrence walled himself off. With his mind to himself, he closed his eyes and began pressing forward. Fear and courage, desperation and determination, these all buzzed in the minds of both invaders and defenders.

The dragons ahead of them faced off against Azrud astride the black monstrosity. Edoc'sil and the new arrivals stayed in formation as they sailed over the battlefield. The line let forth a wave of fire. It washed over the Surdan ranks to no effect. The army stood beneath a wave of fire. Lawrence sensed a handful of minds slip into unconsciousness from the heat. Yet, the combined might of the mage-knights cast a massive ward which turned back dragon fire. Solder and siege equipment alike stood unsinged.

Lawrence shook his head, centering his focus on one source of the ward. The man's barrier felt like the walls of Vroengard, but Lawrence pressed a barb like a man sneaking into the backdoor of a fortress. Then, pain wracked his body.

Tortured, wild minds, like a dragon who'd lost its rider, lashed out at him. Off balance, the mage-knight retaliated and took control of Lawrence momentarily. Edoc'sil and his sire (by way of his eldunarí) struck back, freeing the rider. The rider hung on the link the mage-knight had carved out between them. He followed it back to its source. Lawrence left Kletos and Edoc'sil to duel with the dragons while he faced the mage one-to-one.

Lawrence, while skilled, should've lost. Yet, the man he dueled had to maintain the ward again as the line of dragons washed over them again. The man's concentration broke, and the rider simply made him cease his spell casting. Young Longshanks recoiled at the results. The last he felt from the man was searing pain.

The rider's eyes opened wide in terror. Despite their immediate departure from the land of the living, the scream of scorched men rose to the heights of dragons. The ward had dipped in one area and proved catastrophic. The flames had rushed into the gap and slipped behind the wards. Men and equipment burned. The hearts of two dragons found peace when their hearts burned inexplicably in the flame.

The weight of such death weighed immediately on the rider. His dragon barged in and immediately called him to focus. Lawrence tried. He extended his mind, but a wall barred him from within. His oath burned in his mind. He had managed to violate it and the words now closed the gap.

_I am of no more use, _Lawrence confessed in mixed regret and relief. He hadn't violated the word of his oath but the spirit of it. It could be reasoned that his oath remained unbroken, but his heart believed otherwise. That wasn't _his _understanding of the words, and they held him to his word. They might allow another to do the same if his intent had been different. Sadly, his heart equated his actions with violating his oath.

Edoc'sil roared his frustrations to the sky. Lawrence felt a new wave of regret wash over him. Not for the actions he'd taken, but for his inability to participate in the defense of the city. With this in mind, Lawrence renewed his focus and took a different approach. The siege engineers found themselves in a brawl. He then jumped form one team to another. Soon, numerous trebuchets and ballistae lay still and unused, their crews trying to pull themselves together.

_Well done! _Magnius cheered in his younger friend's mind. Lawrence beamed. He helped and not harmed. A wave of archers then fired at their wing when they pressed lower than usual trying to get below the barrier. Several dragons cried out in pain, and one rider even fell from his saddle with an arrow in his eye. The wards set about Edoc'sil, Lawrence, and Magnius worked well. Despite an arrow zipping toward young Longshanks, it deflected away from him a foot away from his face.

Their wing reformed as another group of riders buttressed their efforts. Another rider managed to break through the ward and another group of men lay charred. The early success of Surda seemed at the tipping point. Other riders caught on to Lawrence's plot and began aiding him in disrupting the engineering teams. Then, a roar sounded from the embattled Surdan leaders, Durza and his mount. Nearly the entire score of riders that had engaged them lay dead upon scorched earth. Two dragons still hovered in defiance across from the ebon-scaled behemoth. Lawrence dug around for their names: Glaedr and Saphira.

The great dragon roared again, and dove between the two. With them in pursuit, the dragon, ridden by Azrud, next barreled through Lawrence's line. Edoc'sil and several other dragons dove to the side, whirling and wheeling to regain their balance. The wards guarding them popped audibly as a strike from the great dragon's paw deflected ever so slightly. With the riders in confusion, the black dragon landed upon the walls. His massive paws rent men and masonry asunder. Screaming defenders were thrown from the wall. Chunks of stone flew with them.

A few moments passed as the dragon lay waste to the hard shell of Vroengard's defenses. Mage-knights strained to keep the barrier up as Surdans began streaming into the gap. The black dragon made way for the advancing army, leaping into the air. Another massive roar shook the heavens. Lawrence swallowed deep and shuddered. With the wall breached, the fight would spill into the streets, and the death toll would rise.

Young Longshanks had always disliked the idea of violence, even with all the combat training he'd received, but now a burning hatred for war ate at him. How many would lie still and lifeless when the smoke cleared? His back straightened again as he urged Edoc'sil back to the city. He couldn't kill, but he wouldn't stop his dragon, and he could defend others. He could fight.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_So, I got really excited last Wednesday because I updated my story on time, or so I thought. The document was uploaded and edited, but it was not posted as a new chapter. I only realized that today as I got ready to upload the 14th chapter. The end lays in sight. While there is one major chapter left, I am considering rewriting the epilogue if someone is interested in Beta-reading the epilogue, I would greatly appreciate it._


	15. Chapter 15: Cost and Effect

Chapter 15: Cost and Effect

The hell of the next few hours made Lawrence question all he ever believed. The rider capital lay torn in two. The Varden held the eastern side of the city while the Surdans lay waste to the western half. To help stave off their advance, teams of elves and other magicians had collapsed two of Vroengard's three bridges. Renvard Keep guarded the final bridge, a bulwark against the southern tide.

In the distance, wild dragons did battle with the Black Behemoth. Parakletos had originally intended to outflank the Surdan force in a surprise attack, but the riders hadn't managed to dent the magical wards shielding the invaders. So, when Azrud dismounted, the prince of dragons baited the beast and lead him away from the fight.

What riders remained in fighting condition did battle with the mage-knights. Their source of power kept them from tiring. Whoever didn't face off against riders lead soldiers to burn the city. Azrud had disappeared in the fighting. Thus, the western wing of Vroengard saw fighting from street to street. Surda marked its progress by burning as they went.

Lawrence stood again at the Hall of Instruction, outside the front entrance rather than in his room. This building had been designated as a shelter for non-combatants, but the Surdans drew near. Edoc'sil flew with Magnius a short distance above and away. They marked the Surdan line and dueled with mage-knights as before.

"Come on," Lawrence said, "move toward the Seat of the Peoples. The Varden have strengthened their defenses there and possess a safe path." A small group of men, women, and children began moving off, a group of Varden warriors encompassed them as they marched.

"You should come with us, rider," came a gravelly voice. The commander overseeing this retinue was an Urgal, the same Lawrence had seen on occasion around Vroengard. "Aren't you the one who can't fight?"

"I can!" Lawrence snapped, the tension of battle weighing on him, "It is only that I cannot kill. Besides, my companions still need me." Lawrence didn't feel so confident about his last statement, but the Urgal didn't stay to disagree. With a grunt,- and a bellow at his men, they set off marching down the marble street.

"There's someone still atop the building!" a voice shouted. Lawrence looked at the few remaining Varden warriors around him, but they looked around for the voice too. The young rider decided not to wait, and he charged back into the pillared entrance of the Hall of Instruction. Elven woodcraft and dwarven masonry zipped by him as he sprinted down halls and up stairwells.

Since his room had an open landing for his dragon, he'd never used the top floor. Still, Vrael showed it to him the first day on Vroengard. He charged up the wide wooden staircase to the arch which opened to the large open platform on top. The moment he set foot on the top stone floor, a voice shouted a spell. He didn't catch the words as he was launched forward. The staff he carried flew from his hand. He rolled to his side and gasped for air as the fall had winded him.

He propped himself up on his elbows and gasped, his heart sinking into his stomach. In armor decked with yellow Surdan tabards, Azrud and… Kaldor stood in front of the entrance. Azrud wore no helmet, contrary to the full set of steel which covered his friend. The helmet had an open face, and Lawrence saw hollow eyes stare back at him. For the first time in the short time Lawrence knew him, Azrud bore no mask.

"Boy," the man addressed the rider mirthlessly through his sharpened teeth, "it truly is a pleasure to see you again."

"Bastard!" Lawrence shouted. Uncharacteristic anger wracked him. A phantom buzzing in his shoulder had bothered him the moment he laid eyes on the pair. "I'd say liar or traitor, but that means you'd have to care about loyalty and honesty."

"Such biting words are unbecoming of an idealist such as yourself," Azrud bit back, "You can't kill me anyway, right? You took an oath." The rider's heart twisted at the jab. It may as well have been a twisting knife. "I'll let you try though."

Lawrence stared dumbfounded as the mage unstripped his breastplate and walked toward the rider. Like his staff, Lawrence carried a blade. He carried it out of habit and mandate, but it lay perpetually unused. The Surdan walked up and pointed to his bare chest. "Make sure you strike through the heart. I'm a shade, so you can only kill me in that manner.

"You're…" Lawrence didn't even finish the sentence. Kaldor's strange behavior and betrayal suddenly made sense. "What did you do to him?"

"Oh," the shade said, "it wasn't just him. Those men from New Broddring, the death of Baldwin, the attacks on Tierm, etc. The name is Durza by the way."

"Devil, why are you telling me this?" Lawrence demanded. His tone held the strength of a dragon. He melded his mind to his partner who sped toward them.

"You won't live to tell others," Durza smirked in sadistic pleasure. He zoomed to Lawrence's front, and the rider reflexively darted his staff forward. The shade leaned casually to the side and dodged, grasping Lawrence's sword and drawing it. He spun around, trying to block and froze at what he saw.

The shade stood calmly in front, a space away from the rider. He held the sword by the blade, the tip aimed at his heart. He smiled wickedly. With a locked gaze, they both knew and understood the message. The shade lay before Lawrence entirely vulnerable. The battle could end here. Yet, Lawrence stood there powerless, bound by his oath. A shade, more specifically, a spirit could choose. He stood helpless.

"As I thought," Durza said, chuckling darkly, "I congratulate your efforts though. Not since Vrael himself slew Galbatorix have my plans gone so awry. You were supposed to fall to my spell of fear as Baldwin had, but your blasted dragon proved troublesome." He then extended an arm to his left and shouted *Letta!*

_^RRRRROOOOAAAAARRRRR!^ _Edoc'sil indignation seemed to shake the atmosphere around him. The dragon had jerked to a stop, but a moment later an arrow flew like lightning and struck Durza in the chest. Sadly, the strike hit too low.

"And… you," Durza said through gritted teeth, yanking the arrow out from his gut, "are an even greater pain. You took the last of my toys from me. So, I think I'll take something from you." A moment of silence ensued. Magnius yelled in pain. Lawrence didn't feel the shock his former guard did, but Edoc'sil clued him in.

_Sire! _An image flashed in their joined minds. Parakletos bugled in pain. The behemoth clamped down on the princely dragon's neck. Edoc'sil and Lawrence extended their minds to support Magnius. What Lawrence found when their minds touched inspired and chilled him. With Kletos' heart in the man's hands, the rider and dragon felt cold rage and righteous fury in equal measure thrum power from their friend.

*You will die by my hand,* Magnius said evenly, *He will be the last to fall by your hand.* The words carried the weight of all Magnius felt, and he would succeed or die trying. With inhuman speed, the shade retreated from the dragon he continued to restrain and fastened back on his breastplate. He'd be hard-pressed to take on all three. A sadistic grin greeted his foes.

"Kaldor," Durza asked, "kill your _friend_."

*Yes,* the youth responded, his voice ringing hollow.

Magnius leaped down from Edoc'sil. His speed seemed now to match that of the shades. Then, he realized that Parakletos, though traumatized by his bodily death channeled his pain and rage into fueling the bearer of his eldunarí. As his former bodyguard engaged the shade, Lawrence edged backward. Kaldor advanced evenly toward his friend.

"Kaldor, snap out of it!" Lawrence shouted at his best friend.

"I have no choice," Kaldor said in the same hollow voice he'd used for the past several months, "He knows my true name." Lawrence paled at the news. Arya chose that topic as his first lesson when she took over his mentoring.

"I can't kill you… wouldn't kill you," Lawrence said, bleary-eyed. The tears blurred his vision as he tried to ready himself.

"I must kill you," Kaldor's voice suddenly changed tone, "Lawrence you must live." Without an explanation of his last mandate, Kaldor drew his sword. Lawrence couldn't kill his friend, but he would fulfill his request. He picked up the sheathed sword quickly and readied his staff in central guard.

Lawrence advanced, not wasting a moment. His left hand grasped the staff at the middle. He released it and lunged forward with his right. The dart on Kaldor's breastplate dented the metal. Kaldor smiled ruefully. Another lunge followed immediately, but Kaldor parried it. He then angled it down to cleave the quarterstaff in two.

Lawrence yanked his staff back, but the blade still made contact. Steel thudded as it bit into the wood. As the blades of their respective allies rung in the background, Lawrence freed his staff and threw Kaldor off balance. He struck then from the left before abruptly stopping.

*Letta!* Kaldor shouted. He moved in to strike Lawrence, but Kaldor grunted in pain when Lawrence lit up his sword with a spell. Lawrence finished his strike, but his blow lacked the force it should've had. That tactic drained him even if it saved his life.

Kaldor's armor rattled from the blow. With an audible growl, he rushed Lawrence. His blade bit into the wood again when Lawrence failed to force him back. He used the leverage to wrench Lawrence's quarterstaff and cast it away. He kneed his friend in the gut.

"Argh!" Lawrence groaned loudly when he felt a plated knee drive into his lower abdomen. He sank down in pain gasping for breath for the second time that day. Kaldor's blow slowed as he raised his sword hand. It gave Lawrence enough time to scramble back as his lungs finally complied and took in a shallow breath. A sharp pain made him grasp his side as he moved. His sudden motion caused the pain to increase.

_Fight! _Edoc'sil commanded as he barged into the mind of his rider. He ceased resisting the spell which suspended him in the air and poured that strength into his rider. Lawrence grit his teeth in pain as he stood and drew his sword.

Kaldor and Lawrence began a dance of strike and parry. The swords rang like a discordant chime. Despite the energy that flowed from his dragon, the pain from his mid-section slowed him. Kaldor wore down his defense, and with the parry Lawrence had taught him months ago, his best friend disarmed him.

"Magnius, please!" Kaldor shouted as he swung wildly at his friend. Kaldor had managed to corner Lawrence and begun swing in wide, wild arcs. Edoc'sil roared as he violently strained against the spell. The renewed effort began to distract Durza. Rather than press his advantage, Magnius retreated quickly toward Kaldor.

Lawrence's friend nicked one of his hands. Luck (or maybe providence) had saved his hand from premature amputation. He could retreat no further. Kaldor, with tears in his eyes, centered his sword for a final lunge. Then, Kaldor screamed. Magnius quickly withdrew his blade from a gap in the youth's armor and parried a strike from the shade. Lawrence ran in to catch his collapsing friend.

"Kaldor," Lawrence lamented as he held his dying friend.

"I'm… free…" he rasped. A trickle of blood formed at the corner of his mouth and he coughed. "I guess dying… changes you…" Lawrence could say nothing. What could he? He knew his magic would be insufficient to heal the wound Magnius dealt. "I wanted to… say thank you… you made life… good. Keep… fighting for that… Lawrence…" With that Kaldor's chest stilled with a final exhale.

Longshanks shut the eyes of his friend. Magnius had said Parakletos would be the last to fall by Durza. He wasn't the last to die because of Durza though. Like his former-bodyguard, rage and righteous wrath flowed across the bond from both dragon and rider. They'd been united in their concern for Kaldor and now in their rage at his death.

The shade had yet to best Magnius because he sustained the grip he held on Edoc'sil. So, Lawrence drew on what energy he had left, Edoc'sil giving what he could. All his emotions and power came out as a wish and command, one spell. *Letta!*

Durza stopped for a moment. A moment undid him. In a second, Magnius thrust his fiery rider sword through the monster's chest. The shade shrieked as his body convulsed. Edoc'sil swept in and grabbed both his rider and Magnius and dove from the top of building gliding to a ruined, but safer street below. The source of their suffering unraveled on the roof they left behind.

Edoc'sil lay panting but uninjured. Magnius lay in a state of semi-shock. Parakletos finally let trauma reach him with his anger spent. He languished in his eldunarí, deprived of all freedom. Lawrence lay unconscious for the third time on Vroengard, not from injury but exhaustion. Tattered, they lived to face future fights.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

So, I missed last weak as the hour grew too late and other Wednesday night activities filled my schedule. However, this story will see its completion next week. National Novel Writing Month lies beyond that. Reaching this point has been an enjoyable checkpoint in my journey as a writer, but this project is not done. To my rough draft, I have done little editing. It has been mainly proofreading and reading for clarity. Thus, I may take another look at this project in six months to a year and do more editing. For now though, we draw to a close by the end of next week.


	16. Chapter 16: The Long Defeat

Chapter 16: The Long Defeat

Lawrence lay broken after the battle, like his ideals in the face of Kaldor's death. The soft blankets upon Vrael's old bed cushioned more than his body as he lay still. A healer had already seen to him. Unlike the other times he'd been injured, bandages bound his core. Little magic could be spared for non-lethal wounds. The dead and dying numbered in the tens of thousands.

After their duel atop the Hall of Instruction, Edoc'sil and Magnius had delivered Lawrence to safety before rejoining the fight. The battle would last the day, but Surda's invasion deteriorated with haste. Mage-knights struggled to keep their eldunarí controlled as the spells binding them weakened with Durza's death. After a two-hour stalemate at the river between the halves of the city, a large force of Surdan soldiers attempted a swift retreat. That ended in dragon fire and surrender. Only the black behemoth of a dragon remained unaccounted for.

Lawrence had learned all this from a conversation with the healer who checked on him a half-hour ago. Numbness kept him from any deeper thought. Kaldor's bloody, final smile haunted his visions. The weak joy of that ghostly expression tasted bittersweet as Lawerence mulled over the events of the day. His friend had died free and happy, but he had died. Thus, Longshanks wept.

A nudge came from Edoc'sil. The dragon tried to extend a tendril of comfort, but Lawrence refused to open himself. Despite the wall he put up, his dragon still manage to alerted him to his and Magnius' approach. He dwelt in unused quarters in the Great Hold. The beating of air caused linens and stray strands of hair to rustle and flail about. Knowing the pairs of eyes on him, Lawrence rolled over on his other side.

"Lawrence," Magnius addressed him. Leather shifted as the swordsman dismounted, "I want you to get up."

"Let me alone," Lawrence said numbly.

"No," his friend responded, "not like this. Once you're healed, there will be plenty to do. I'll leave you to rest when I am sure your brain is in the right place."

"Kaldor is dead!" Lawrence shouted. Indignation fueled by grief shot across the bond as the rider's control over his emotions wavered. A pained look flashed across Magnius' face.

"I… _I _know," he said bitterly, "but that's not the issue. I think you know that."

"It's _my _fault!" Lawrence continued his shouting, "I took that blasted oath and couldn't kill the one responsible for so much death and suffering." Kaldor's peaceful expression in death flashed across his vision. "There was no other way…"

"You're right," Magnius acquiesced, "but you're also wrong." Lawrence looked at his friend, both skeptical and hopeful. "You're not responsible for the evil of Durza, but you did err in your ideals. Somethings are worth killing for, a grim truth in our world." The rider's hopefulness ebbed away. "Still, you are bent, not broken."

"You lie," Lawrence retorted, "I'm as broken as my naive hopes and dreams."

"No," the swordsman refused the conclusion once again, "your hopes and dreams are maturing and bending, just like you."

"Explain," the rider demanded. His dragon finally decided to lay down, shifting slightly to his side.

"You want to help, not harm. You know now the first may require the second. This lesson first hit you when you first took up a sword. On this painful journey of discovery, you have learned how to help others better. Not to mention how powerful your capacity for compassion has already proved."

"I don't think I've done that much," Lawrence answered, a flicker of embarrassment surfaced. It showed as the words began to hit home. The rider sat up and looked intently his former body-guard.

"What was the last thing Kaldor said to you?" Magnius asked rhetorically, pausing to let the memory stew. "Edoc'sil showed me the memory. No matter the chaos that ensued or all the pain which befell him, Kaldor said thank you. Your efforts on his behalf took him from the slums of Tierm to the inner counsels of Vroengard. His life was changed."

"Yes," Lawrence admitted, still clinging to his grief and self-pity, "but it led to his demise."

"Who's to say he wouldn't have died during the attack on Tierm anyway?" Magnius asked, earning a horrified look from Longshanks. "You don't know what might've happened. What did happen is a lot of good and a share of suffering." The warrior paused before finished, a deep swallow preceding his conclusion. "We all have that in our lives, no matter how short or long they are…" A silence ensued until Magnius headed toward the door. "I'll go for now. Keep fighting, Lawrence."

Without word or request, Lawrence rose after the door had closed behind Magnius and padded across the floor towards his dragon. Wooden planks gave way to polished stone and that to smooth scales. Lawrence soon found himself enveloped in a world of warmth and fiery-orange. He felt his hair rub against his friend's exposed underbelly. The dragon craned his neck beneath his wing and laid it in his rider's lap.

_I'm here beside you, Rextugenos, _Edoc'sil said with as much admiration and affection as he could muster. _No matter the fight._

_Magnius was wrong, _Lawrence said flatly after a long silence. He felt Edoc'sil's concern, but continued on, _Thank you wasn't all that Kaldor said. He asked me to keep fighting to make life good. Maybe Magnius knew that and saved it for last._

_So? _Edoc'sil asked, confused and slightly concerned.

_I need to rest for the fight ahead… my Fire-Jewel, _Lawrence let his heart open wide to his dragon. Grief. Anger. Regret. Affection. Gratitude. Determination. All these and more flowed freely. Soon, the rider's burden lightened a little, and he fell into a deep sleep—resting for the fight ahead.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_With this, winter falls. This story and efforts on fanfiction go into hibernation. I meant originally to rewrite this part of the story. Its short length and abruptness sat ill with me when reflecting on it. However, new projects press as NaNoWriMo begins in less than 27 hours. Thus, I set the project aside for a later date-a second edition. If anyone has feedback, it is welcome here. _


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